


Born to Fly

by uploadsforjack



Category: DCU, Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Morality, Mortality, Organized Crime, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 42
Words: 116,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5133373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uploadsforjack/pseuds/uploadsforjack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sera Gordon has lived in Gotham all her life and just like her brother, she wants to change it. She finds her calling as an RN. Falcone offers to help their mom for a favor. She agrees and gets thrown into a world of crime she never even fathomed was so deep. When Carmine retires, Penguin becomes her boss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

"We gather here today to celebrate the life of a good man," the preacher announces from behind the podium. "Benjamin Gordon was a wonderful, loving husband; a kind father, as well as a _just_ DA for the great City of Gotham."

In a sense of prolonged agony, I roll my eyes. Mother, of course, is quick to pinch my arm.

"Ouch," I wince and jerk away from her.

"You are nineteen years old. Act your age. This is a serious time, Sera."

Instead of rolling my eyes once again, Jim laces his arm around mine. "You and I both know Gotham isn't the best place in the world, but dad loved it."

And just how does that make it okay to call Gotham a great place? Growing up in a conservative suburb home, I didn't get the proverbial slap in the face that the city often offers its residents.

It was only when the car accident happened that I finally got hit by it. It came like a brick and left a permanent mark on my heart.

"Maybe if the city weren't such a shit place," I whisper under the preacher. "Dad wouldn't have died."

Jim nods solemnly, as if I'm re-opening a wound I was never supposed to touch in the first place. "There was nothing they could do."

"James, you were unconscious for hours before anyone finally called the cops."

"Can't you just leave it alone?" He glares at me like I just stabbed him in the back. "Please, at least for now."

"Sure."

He sighs heavily and turns his attention back to the speaker. I, on the other hand study the church. It's huge, for starters. So big, even _,_ that if someone were to stand at the top of the bell tower, they could scowl down at the scum below. I recognize the Gothic-styled architecture all around. The inside is draped with various curtains, paintings and scripture that I can't even understand. Perhaps if father was such a great, kind influence he would've taken us to church once in awhile instead of just pay their bill.

"His family mourns for him, but they should not." That sentence grabs my attention once again. "He has gone to a better place. And one day, I believe he will be reunited with his family."

Oh. _That_ speech.

As he continues to give good stories, prayers and scripture, time around me starts to speed up. Earlier, time was slow; every single word that the preacher would mutter took an eternity. Now his words fly by so fast that I can't catch on.

The next thing I know, we're standing around the grave-site.

"Would anyone like to share a few words about Benjamin?"

Silence rings in my ears. No one dares to speak up. What, does no one have a funny story about my dad? Or did they never care enough to learn one or two? The quiet is more pronounced to me than any BS speech his buddies could give. I fully expect the damned souls at our feet to rise from the grave and laugh in our faces.

I sigh deeply as the Gotham breeze finally comes around. It's crisp- chilly even. Winter is on our tails. How fitting that a man so loved by all would die so close to a season of famine and darkness. It's almost like the universe itself is having a go at the Gordons.

"I wish I could've helped him," Jim says after laying his rose on the coffin. "I was right there when he died. I could've saved him..."

The crowd finally murmurs their condolences and comforts as he takes his place in between my mother and I. His bright blue eyes stare at the ground like it has the world's secrets written upon their blades. Out of concern, I take a glance at him.

James' eyes are full of tears but none streak down his cheek. Immediately, I regret ever snapping at him. My brother is so much better than I, it pisses me off and makes me want to hug him at the same exact time.

"I'm sorry, Jim." I mutter into his ear and join him in studying the ground.

As we do so, mother wrings her hands in a nervous manner and also lays her rose on dad's grave. "God knows he wasn't a perfect man," she says in her timid way. "None us are. But Benjamin? He made me a better person. Oh, I loved him so much."

My lips automatically press into a line. I bite down hard on the inside them just to remind myself that perhaps everything is real. That this isn't just some sick dream.

No, it's not.

It makes the hot, steamy tears in my eyes worth the pain. It makes the aching in my soul more understandable.

Mom walks back to her place as everyone applauds her. Like a cue from a conductor, the audience's eyes all turn on me. In the heat of the moment, I want to scream in their faces and run until I can't stop.

But that's socially unacceptable, isn't it?

I open my mouth to say a word, but I'm saved by a hand resting on my shoulder.

"I'd like to say something about him, if you don't mind, Sera."

I shake my head at the old man just behind me.

"My name is Carmine Falcone," he announces to the audience and pats my shoulder again. "I was a good friend of Benjamin's. We had many good times together. If I was only limited to one story, I couldn't do it. He and I had a _mutual_ understanding of each other. One that cannot be eliminated by something like death."

 _Carmine Falcone,_ I repeat the name to myself. I only vaguely remember him. He was younger at the time. I believe he joined our family for dinner once, maybe. Then again, I hadn't always been the most present person in the Gordon family.

Of course, the crowd applauds at his speech.

"You may continue now, Sera." Falcone nods to me and takes his seat.

"Yeah, well, um-" The interruption throws me off. I can't remember a thing I planned on saying. "I just miss him. And I wish he was here..." Then I too, lay my rose on the coffin.

As my father is lowered into the ground, I can hear my mother and brother sniffling. I sit on my foldable chair and stare at my hands. Guilt rushes to my heart. Why am I not crying? I should be crying. My father's dead and I'm just sitting here like a dumb monkey fiddling with my hands. But it's not like I don't love my dad. I do. I miss him very much... but I just can't.

After the funeral, I remember going back to the house and feeling the sheer emptiness of it. Dad no longer sits on the couch and tunes the radio. Instead, the radio sits on the coffee table alone, like an antique no longer in use. His desk is still cluttered with papers and files. I almost expect to look through the glass doors of the office and see him sitting there, studying every piece of paper. He'll flip down his glasses and narrow his eyes at the writing, like it's telling him a lie.

The rest of the rooms in the house are full and decorated with the appropriate furniture, but all of it seems so petty.

Mom runs straight to her room and locks herself in. Jim leaves the house almost immediately to go see Barbara.

I start to make myself some food when the doorbell rings.

"Can you get it, honey?" Mom calls in between distant crying from behind her closed door.

"Sure," I mumble and jolt to the large wooden door. I've always thought it's the prettiest part of our house. It has a dark, thick wood with a Victorian stained glass design in the center of it. "Yes?"

Carmine Falcone smiles thinly at me. "Hi, Sera? Is your mother home?"

"Yeah... She's not in great shape right now..."

"That's okay. I actually wanted to talk to you."

"Me? Would you like to come in?"

"No, I won't be long," he says. From behind him, a black car sits in our driveway. There's at least four men in and around the car. There's even an armed man directly behind him. I must've been looking at them funny, because he waves them off. "Oh, you don't need to worry about them. They're my protectors just in case someone wants to try and get me."

"Why would anyone want to attack you?" I arch a thin brow at the whole situation.

He chuckles softly and props himself up on his cane. "Many reasons I don't wish to explain right now."

"Ah," I say, trying to laugh along with him.

"No, I came here to give you a gift of a sorts. I understand that your mother is getting older and she'll get harder for you to take care of. If you ever need to put her in nursing home or care facility, just let me know. Let me pay for it. It's the least I can do for your family."

This time, I smile. It's soft and very faint, but it's there. "I can't thank you enough. Jim's thinking about going off to war and I'm in college. Supporting her-even with the inheritance we've gotten would be hard. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear this."

"Oh, uh, how about you just keep this between us. It is sort of a sensitive subject, after all."

"Sure, sure. No problem."

"Here is my card, young lady," he hands it to me and turns. "It's been a pleasure, Sera."

"The same to you... Thanks."

Falcone doesn't bother to look back. Instead, his bodyguard gives me a curt nod and follows his boss back to his car.

***

"I'm going to join the army," Jim finally announces only two months after father's passed. It's something I've been expecting since even before dad died. His relationship's not going anywhere. He's twenty-one years old and never really went to college. I can understand his need to feel fulfilled.

Of course our mother is supportive. She wraps him up in her thick, heavy arms and squeezes him tight. "Oh, James. I'm so proud of you. I think this is a great decision." Their matching eyes meet in a moment of brief, true light.

I agree tersely, nodding and crossing my arms. So what am I supposed to do? Do I quit college and work to support my mother and I? Do I call up Falcone for that favor and put her in a nursing home at 65?

I don't have too much to say at the celebratory lunch. Mother pries for answers and thoughts on Jim's recent opportunity. I mostly stay quiet. Perhaps I've thought about it so much the past month alone, that I have nothing to put in about it anymore.

Finally, on his very last day he gets the answers he so desires.

"You'll need to take care of mom."

"I know," I say, folding my arms across my chest. I can already feel a pep-talk coming on.

He sits on my purple sheeted bed and folds his hands in front of him- just like dad. "You know why I'm asking this, right?"

"Yes, I know!" I bark and stand, filing my fingers through my hair. All of the the bundled in anger, sadness and frustration starts to boil out. It's slow and painful, burning the depth of my insides down to the core.

His blue eyes stare me down in an apologetic kind of way that makes me want to punch him in the nose.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Sorry. I just want you to be prepared for the worst. Being blindsided is not a fun situation-"

"Wow, like I didn't know that. Thank you, Jim!"

"I'm saying that because I'm leaving my inheritance with you!"

"Wait, what?" It catches me off-guard. I'm expecting him to take my father's riches to the war and spend it all! Not leave it in my care. "Why?"

"You know I'll end up with nothing if I'm in charge of it all," he says. "I want it here in a safe place, just in case something were to happen."

"I guess I can," I shrug.

"Don't spend it all either, Sera. When I return, I'm collecting whatever money is left over."

"Duh."

"But just make sure you're not alone. Don't bury yourself in your schoolwork. Find someone who will carry the load with you. Get counseling."

That is all it takes to break me. Steamy, hot tears pours over my face. They streak and burn all the way down to my chin. How is the universe okay with this sort of injustice? It isn't fair. None of it is. Not dad, not Jim, not my mother; and especially not Gotham.

Jim places a kiss on my head as the tears begin to stain. And for the last few moments of our embrace, there is a complete, peaceful silence.


	2. The Return of Jim Gordon

The next two years or so pass slowly. So slowly, in fact, that I think I'm going to die before Jim finally returns. Not to mention, the anxiety that comes with every knock on the door. It's beginning to make me sick. Each time the doorbell rings, I prepare myself to see two cops telling me that my brother is dead. I keep most of the news about the war away from mother. She constantly worries over him: and I mean constantly.

I start counseling, like he suggested. It actually helps tremendously. With the help of Dr. Strength, I find more bits and pieces of myself that I didn't really know existed. I learn that I'm a far moreof an open person than I like to believe. On our second session I told her every single tiny detail of my life that I could remember. 

School starts to come to a close. I'm so close to being an RN that I can just smell it. Only a few more days to go, in fact.

When Jim finally returns, I can tell right off the bat that he's different. He called me only two weeks prior and told me of his dreams and desires. He wants to work  for the GCPD. He wants to help the city, just like me.

"Hi, James!"

He wastes no time in dropping his bags and sweeping me up into a huge, tight hug. "Oh, man. I missed your beautiful face! " He laughs.

Even though he's laughing and smiling, I find it hard to do the same. The war really shook him up. That much is clear to see. I'm worried that perhaps it shook him too much and that he's just jumping into action because he misses the adrenaline rush. It's been known to happen with veterans. And just because Jim is my brother doesn't mean the same rules don't apply.

"I missed you too," I say, trying to force a smile. "How're you doing?"

He picks up his backpack, suitcase and offers his arm other arm to me. "I'm great now that I'm back in town. I missed the... stench of garbage along the streets."

I roll my eyes, "I'm being serious. And I want to know everything about your trip-"

"It wasn't just a trip," he snaps. What was once his smile turns into a serious frown in a manner of seconds. "I was in the war, Sera. I  _killed_  people."

"I know, I know. I just didn't want to say it so blankly. And hey, you're not in the war anymore."

Jim takes in a deep breath, holds it, and then lets it go. Like nothing ever happened, his soft smile returns. "Ready to go?"

"Of course. D'you want help with your bags?"

He pops open the trunk of mom's car and throws in his backpack and suitcase. "Nah, I got it."

"Oookay."

On the way home, he tells me the light-hearted stories of his troops. In turn I tell him about mother and schooling. Suddenly, it's like no time has passed between us. We're once again on our way home to a whole, happy family. He just won the homecoming game, I led the final cheer and we're going to celebrate the victory with our proud parents.

Instead, his soft laughter stops. "Did you get the counseling?"

"I did," I say as we pull up to the beautiful white home. "Will you?"

His eyes just stare at the house like it's the greatest sight in all of the world. As if the very planks that make up it up are his very bones. The paint and windows are his soul. It's like this one spot is where he belongs, indefinitely. I can't even imagine the joy of returning to a place I get to call 'home' after an ordeal like Jim's.

Finally after prodding him a few more times, he nods. "Yeah, sure."

"James, I'm serious."

"Since when have you cared about my well-being?" He asks when we walk through the door.

"Since you left! I haven't had anyone else to worry about but mom. You were at war, James."

"Yeah, and now I'm back. Look, I'm safe and sound."

"Your mind isn't..." I murmur, hanging up our coats. "You haven't even been back an hour and I can tell you're not over it."

"You don't even know half-"

"Are you two fighting?" Mother wheels herself into the large den. It's at that moment I notice how old she's truly gotten. Her eyes were once bright blue, like Jim's- now, they're gray and faded. Her skin used to have dashes of freckles here and there- now her cheeks are pale and sagging. "You haven't even been together 24 hours and you're already bickering! Jim! Come here and give your mother some love."

He drops his things and gives me a glare before hugging her. At any other time the interaction would warm my heart. Now it's just nearly sickening.

"I don't know why you two are fighting, but what I do know is that you better work it out before dinner."

"Actually mom, I'll be going over to Barbara's for dinner tonight."

"Your girlfriend, right?" I ask, slinging his backpack over my shoulder. "I thought you broke up with her before you left."

"Yeah, I did, but now that I'm back in town- we're just talking about it, okay? What're you doing with my stuff?"

"Taking it up to your room. You need to rest."

For what seems like the hundredth time that day, he rolls his eyes but begrudgingly agrees. Deep down, I assume James knows he needs help. I'm sure that he can see the way he jumps at every sound in the house and how he can turn from cheerful to dark in a matter of seconds. It scares me. Really, it does. Not only for him, but for my mother and for Barbara.

The rest of that day with him consists of the same, cheerful stories he told me in the car along with some other darker themes. Even as the mood changes, not once do his expressions switch. They're cold, somber and blank.

"I'll be off. Can I borrow the car?"

"Sure," I say tossing the keys in between my hands. "As long as you promise me to go get yourself eval-ed at the office?"

"Not a chance." The keys are jerked from my hands and Jim bounds off into whatever blissful abyss he cares to call 'Barbara'.

***

It's a day or so before Jim returns home. I make him an appointment for the same counseling office I currently attend. Barbara must've suggested the same thing I did because he actually agrees to go; only if I buy his lunch, of course.

He's spends a whole two hours in the counselor's office. I get halfway through a book! My evaluation only took one hour. His has taken double the time.

When he steps out of the eval, there are visible tears down his cheeks. The doctor confirms everything I've predicted. He suggests Jim go through months of trauma counselling before jumping back into the workforce.

Well, none of that happens. James only goes for a month or two before getting his job at the GCPD.

I ask him to tell me why he's stopped going. Of course, he's evasive and distant about it when he answers. What can I do about it though? Do I prod and prod until he wants no conversation with me? Or do I let the dust settle before asking him about it again?

"I'm worried about him," mom finally confesses one late night. "He's going to get himself into things he doesn't even know exist."

At the time, I think she's just being the typical mother-figure she tries to makes herself appear to be. Of course, there are dark things in Gotham. That's an obvious 'duh'. Luckily, James is working for the police force. I've overheard that the police are supposed to be like brothers. It's a comfort me to know he's around people who will give their life for my brother.

"I hope not, mom."

"Who are you, again?"

"It's- It's me, mom. Your daughter? Sera?" Perhaps I'm less shocked than I should be. Any girl should be sobbing on the floor, begging for her mother to remember her. Instead, I just stare at the confused old woman. I pity her, greatly. I wish there was someway to put her out of her misery without cold-blooded murder.

She shakes her head and frantically wheels herself away from me. "I don't have a Sera. I only have one child. James is his name. Where- Where is James?!"

"He's working, mom. He won't be back until the morning."

Her memory has been failing for a while. Maybe that's why I'm not panicking. It has only been little things, though; perhaps a misplaced drink or a forgotten anniversary. When she freaks out at the sight of me in our home, I finally piece it together.

"I need to make a call to someone."

"Who, sweetheart?"

"An old friend of mine," I reply distantly and grab my flip phone. When I'm finally up to my room, I pull the card out of my dresser. "Hello, Mr. Falcone?"

"Yes, this is he. Who is speaking?"

"Sera Gordon. I believe we spoke a few years ago about my mother?"

"Yes! Sera! How are you doing, young lady?"

I run my hands over my face and sigh. Taking money from an old man is stabbing at me. "I'm alright. Jim's finally home."

"How is he?"

"He's alright," I lie. "You said something about putting my mom up in a nursing home?"

"Yes, I did. Is it time?"

"I think so... but listen, I really don't want to take any money from you. I'm serious. It's really hitting me in the stomach. Jim's a cop. There's no way he could-"

"Speak no more of it. You need help with this, Sera. I want to help you. But if I may ask, what are you doing right now?"

"I'm actually about to be an RN. I'm graduating in mere weeks."

"Oh, what a spectacular idea! I propose a trade. You don't wish to take money from me and I am certainly open for ideas."

"What do you have in mind?" I ask, leaning back on my bed.

"Recently, a few of my men have gotten into a little skirmish. Do you think you could come down to my place and fix 'em up?"

"Of course! I would be happy to."

"Great, now just find the home you'd like to put her in and give me a call. We'll get the details figured out." I can almost hear him smile through the phone.

"That sounds wonderful. Thank you so much."

"Not a problem. I'll talk to you later."

Only seconds after I hang up, I get another call.

"Sera? Hi! It's Barbara. Jim's girlfriend. I think we've met once or twice."

"Yes, hello. I'm actually surprised you even exist, anymore." I laugh over the phone. "Can I help you with something?"

"No," she giggles along. "I'm real. I was just wondering if you would like to join Jim and I for dinner tonight!"

"Yeah, sure. That sounds great."

"Jim will pick you up in his way to my place. It'll be great to see you again."

"And the same to you, Barbara."

It all pans out as she says it will. She certainly has a thing for efficiency, I'll give her that. James comes by in my car, picks me up and we're off to Barb's.

"Don't hound her about me. Don't tell her about when I was kid. Don't give her any ideas."

"Oh, come  _on_ , James. Give it a rest. I'm not 18 anymore."

"I just want to make sure we're clear."

I can't believe he, of all people, is telling me what I can and cannot do. He, who hasn't even been present in my life for two years. "Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do?"

"Your brother who's survived a  _war_. That's who."

"And that gives you entitlement how?"

"Hello you two! You must be Sera! I'm Barbara, again. It's a pleasure to have you here."

"Of course. I'm glad to be here."

"Hi, Barb." He kisses her on the cheek.

I take a mental note of how well they fit together. By all means, they just  _look_  like they belong with each other. She has gorgeous blue eyes, as does he. She has the posture of a rich widow and he is a righteous war hero ready to come home and sweep her away once again. Barbara looks like the woman who will wait for all of her life for Jim if he just asks her.

And oh, the way he gazes at her. Even in their small few seconds of eye contact, Jim stares straight into her soul. He's unafraid of what he might find, even though what he finds may be dark and scary. It's the way every girl wants to be looked at- it's the way I want to be looked at.... someday.

It's in that moment that I know healing is capable for my brother.

***

"It was so lovely having you both."

"Thank you so much for the invitation. It was a pleasure to meet you again."

"Goodnight, Barb."

The door shuts behind us and we're once again left to our own devices.

"She's a nice girl, Jim. You've got a good thing going there."

"Well, thanks. I sure know how to pick them," he sarcastically comments. He thinks I'm joking. I almost bellow with laughter.

"I wasn't joking. She's a good match for you. Keep her close."

His eyes widen, as if he's both scared and excited about the sincerity in my voice. I pray that police work won't change his open-book nature. Even if he doesn't come out and say what he's feeling, it's plain to see just by the look on his face. It's a trait he's kept with him all throughout his life.

"Seriously, what happened when I was gone?"

"I think I just grew up," I confess. "I was so childish before. When you left, I was thrown into responsibility. I needed it."

"I never woulda thought."

"No, of course not. You were too busy being a hero."

"Yeah, and?" He asks.

The door to our house pushes open and we step inside. The only sound is of mom's quiet snoring and the credit music of her favorite show.

I whisper under the TV, "And I want my chance to be the same."

"Being a war hero is totally different than nursing in some city, Sera."

"I'm at the point in my life where I'm soon not going to have any ties. I want to be a nurse, yes. But I want to be on the front lines. There's no better place to do that than in Gotham!"

"Why?! The front lines just get shot down!"

I can't exactly explain why I want to be apart of the bloody hell raining down on the streets. It just feels... right. Suppose if I  _do_  just sit idly as my city burns to the ground. Then how will I ever be able to call myself innocent?

"Who's gonna make the sacrifice if I don't? I already have my BSN. All I'm waiting for is the graduation ceremony and then I can work anywhere I want!"

"So take my advice and work in a pediatric clinic. You don't want to mess with the streets, Sera. It's a life or death situation out there. Maroni, Fish, even Falcone won't hesitate to kill you. It's not a game."

"Falcone? How can you be so sure?"

He has nothing more to say to me that night. Jim just shakes his head and storms up to his room. His jacket is shed upon the floor and that is the end of it.

I just don't have the heart to tell him that I've already applied to multiple hospitals around the city.

 


	3. Fish Mooney

"Are you kidding me, Sera? The hospital?!"

"No, I'm not kidding you!"

Maybe it's a bad idea to give him bad news during his shift. He paces around his desk like a schoolgirl waiting on a call from a date.

"Why would you do that? I told you not to go and do that!"

"Because I wanted to, Jim!"

From the top of the stairs we hear a thick, loud voice. "Awe, who's this Jim?"

"This is my little sister. Harvey, Sera. Sera, Harvey."

"Nice to meet you," the man smiles thinly and outstretches his hand. "I'm Detective Bullock: your brother's partner."

"Figured," I smile and return the gesture. "I'm his sister, obviously."

"My almost  _dead_  sister." Jim quips. "I can't believe you would go and do something so stupid." 

"Hey, go easy with your words, Boyscout," Harvey scolds, flipping down his glasses and glancing at files upon his desk. "What'dya do?"

"I got accepted at the Gotham hospital," I say. I should and can be proud of my decision to accept the job offered to me. "He thinks I'm going to get myself killed." 

The detective frowns. As he does, his floppy hair falls onto his face. "The people downtown don't play. You know that right?"

I nod casually, leaning on Jim's desk. It's far more organized than I originally expect, even though it's still nearly covered in different papers. 

"She's my sister, Harvey. She doesn't buy it." 

"Oh, what will I not buy?" I sit on his chair and spin around to face Bullock. 

His face nearly lights up with laughter. "Don't tell me you don't know! Jim here likes to play hard-ass. Righteous and upholding to the law. Like Don Juan or somethin'."

I can't say I'm not the least bit confused. Harvey's acting like his _'facade'_ is a complete joke. "Isn't that what cops are supposed to be? Y'know, following the law?"

"We're supposed–"

Bullock nearly falls out of his chair laughing. With the heaves and sighs coming from his desk, Jim and I both almost crack a smile. 

"You mean you haven't told her, Jim?"

"Told me what?" 

"Don't do it, Harvey," James snaps at his partner. "If you know what's good for you." 

Before he can answer, a girl no more than 14 appears at Jim's side. Her hair is horribly unkempt, sprouting in all different directions. Oh, but her eyes. I can swear she had cat-like eyes, as green as new spring grass. They swear to truth, but all in the same promise deception. I wonder about her story. Did she come from the streets? The questions reel through my mind as she stares us down. 

"I have more info for you, if you're not going to handcuff me again."

"Let's go, Selina. Harvey, do you mind taking her to Fish's for me?"

"Why Fish–"

"Just do it!" He commands and pushes the girl out the door. Selina rolls her eyes as he does so, mouthing me a "good luck". 

Harvey sighs and slaps down his files. "Alright, Miss America, let's get going." The older man flings on his jacket and fedora, cracking his neck as he does. It's one smooth, quick motion.

"'Miss America'?" I chuckle, slipping my hands into the pockets of my black coat. "Where'd you get that one?"

"Well it only figures that being the sister of a guy like Jim Gordon, you must be some good ol' fashion do gooder." 

"You must not have known him before he went off to war."

He shakes his head and smirks. "No, I didn't. Why?"

"He was way different. Irresponsible, annoying, you name it." 

"Oooh. That's good blackmail. I wanna hear stories."

"Sure. Buy me lunch and you've got a deal, Bullock."

"It's a deal, sister." He grabs my hand and leads me out to his cop car. 

On the way to Fish Mooney's, Harvey shares a little bit about his life with me. Not too much (of course) but just some bits and pieces to keep my thoughts occupied. I share a few embarrassing stories about Jim's childhood. Like how one day, he walked in on a big meeting with a few of my father's clients, completely buck-ass nude. He was only 7 or 8 at the time, but it's still hilarious to this day. Mother did take pictures if I'm remembering correctly.

Pulling up the place, I'm astonished at the simplicity of it. I expect the building to be totally lit up in bright, glamorous lights. What else could come with a name like "Fish's"? Instead, it's far humbler. There's a single, red neon light shaped like a fish bone in a window. The rest of the entrance is a dark color. Classy and simple. I like it. 

"Harvey~" A woman's voice comes over my ears as soon as we enter. For some reason, it makes me feel both on edge and comforted at the  _same_  exact time. It's motherly; soft and gentle, yet piercing like a newly sharpened knife. I want to run into her arms and run very, very far away. "Where have you been, darling?"

"You know how work can be," he slides off his hat and plants a kiss on her lips. "Sorry I didn't stop by sooner."

Fish then looks me over. I give her a small wave and smile. Even her appearance is menacing. Her dress is form-fitting of her petite figure; her hair is as dark as the night and the tips are dipped with a blood-red color. She's everything  _but_  simple, quite the opposite of the entrance to her nightclub. There's no doubt within my mind that Fish Mooney could be the most complex woman in all of the world. It's intimidating, especially to a curvy woman like myself. There's no way I can pull off a dress like hers. I take a bet that she's a dress size 0 or 1. I'm a dress size 7. There's just no comparison to the amount of beauty and sexuality about her. I, on the other hand still wear tee-shirts and scrubs.

"And now who is this looker, Harvey?"

"I'm Sera Gordon. Jim's sister."

"Yeah, that," Harvey says. "He asked if I could bring her here to uh, show her the ropes."

Her gorgeous hazel eyes stare straight into mine. I could faint in fear and nakedness in the very second we meet. I think she's about to shove him off and dismiss us, instead she smiles. 

"Of course, dear. Let me show you around. My name's Fish Mooney. It's a pleasure, Sera." She takes my hand in her and pats the back of it. 

It's a very odd gesture that sets off an alarm within my being. "The pleasure's mine, Fish." I answer uneasily. 

Then, Fish wraps her arm around mine and gives me a tour of her nightclub. It's everything I assume a typical nightclub to be. I remember thinking the security's a little excessive. Other than that, it's completely normal.

But it's only when I meet Butch Gilzean that I understand how scary Fish really is. 

"And this is my most trusted bodyguard and confidant, Butch." 

"Hello," he waves softly. "I'm Butch. And you are, miss?"

"Sera. Sera Gordon."

Immediately, his gentle smile falls. Thick fingers lace around a gun on his belt. "Jim Gordon's sister?"

"Yes," I say, nearly breathless. "I am."

"Butch, there's no need to be hostile," Mooney scolds, running her fingers along his chubby hands. "She's not like her brother. She understands how things work. Isn't that right, Sera?" 

I nod in quick agreement. How exactly do things work? From where I'm standing, Fish Mooney gets away with anything and everything she wants to do. Heck, she doesn't even have to get her hands dirty. 

"She's a sweet girl," Fish adds. "So sweet and oblivious to the world around her."

"How do you know that?" I asked, finally releasing myself from her arm. 

"How old are you, dear?" 

"Twenty-one." 

"See? It would be a shame to lose such a good heart in such a dark time in Gotham. Come, I'll take you back to Harvey." 

Fish escorts me back to the bar where Bullock has already filled his stomach with alcohol. "I must get back to work. It seems like we have a snitch in our midst. I'm taking it upon myself to find him."

"And do what?" I ask.

"End his life, very slowly."

"Ah." 

"What do you do for a living, Sera?"

"I'm a nurse," I say. "Well, I'm starting on Monday."

Her smile becomes very strained. "How very lovely. Well, goodbye for now, Sera–"

"Wait, Fish?"

"Yes, dear?" She turns, gently placing her eyes upon me once again. How did she ever learn to change her demeanor so quickly? And where? Could she teach me a thing or two?

"What do you mean _'the dark times in Gotham'_? I understand there's the typical darkness of gangs and stuff... But is there something else going to happen?"

Fish drops all illusion she'd put up until that moment. Her eyes narrow and a hand rests on her hip. She struts closer and closer until we're only a few inches away. 

"You have such pretty eyes. They remind me of my own."

I try to accept the compliment but I'm too shaken at the moment to say anything. 

"To answer your question, I sure as hell hope something's going to happen: something big. And I will be the only one left on top."

Then too, I want to respond, but I just can't.

"Good chat," Mooney corrects her posture and begins to saunter away. "I sure hope to see you again, Sera." 

I feel like I can't breathe all the way back to the GCPD building. Harvey doesn't prod too much... until we park.

"Look, Sera. You know Jim's just trying to scare you, right?"

All I can do is nod. Dammit, Jim! But now that I know, it's fading away like an unpleasant memory– oh wait.

"Don't take Fish to heart. She likes to mess with new people. Everything's going to be fine. See, I think getting a job at the hospital will be a good thing for you. I think you need the work."

"You do?"

"Heck yeah. I think a young woman like yourself needs to feel a sense of duty, or something. It's why Jim joined the army, you know." 

"I know," I say, getting over my nerves. "I want to help my city. I feel like I've just been taking and taking from it and not giving anything back."

"Then go do it, Sera. Go and do what you need to." 

"Y'know, James told me you were a jerk."

He scoffs and holds the door for me. "He's right. If he asks, I'm going to tell him that Fish had no effect on you and you passed the ropes course with flying colors." 

"Thanks. Jim!" 

"Yeah?" My brother calls up from his desk, as if he hasn't watched us walk in. "How'd it go?"

"She did great. Fish seemed to like her."

"Oh yeah?"

I agree with Harvey. "She was nice... and had a cool club. I'm thinking of taking my girlfriends there on our next get-together."

Jim's blue eyes roll in annoyance. "That place is not for you."

***

"I've found the place I'd like to put my mother."

"Have you?" He asks, sipping on his coffee. 

I bob my head, taking a drink of my steamy tea. "I brought the papers." 

He motions for them. Without thinking, I hand over the brochure and information page. 

"I just went to see them a day or so ago," I explain. "They seem quite nice."

"That's wonderful to hear," he smiles, examining the papers. "This place seems lovely, Sera. I'm sure your mother will be happy with it."

"Speaking of that, how  _did_  you know my father?"

"We worked together, actually. He was a very kind man. I do miss him. There's not another DA like 'em."

"I've heard that," I say, smiling softly. "So this is the price. Are you okay with it?"

"Of course, of course. Money is no issue. Remember our little deal?" He leans forward as if it's some big secret. 

"Yes. I want to help your men in any way I can." 

"Great. I'm glad we understand each other. When can you begin fixing them up?"

"Um, I should get my work schedule tomorrow. I'll let you know when I have an idea?" I offer. The hospitals gives us two-week in advance schedules. "Sorry, the hours may be a little crazy."

"Hours are no problem at all. Just let me know when you get your schedule and I'll tell you when would be the best to help out my men."

"Okay. It sounds like a plan, Mr. Falcone," I smile in a faint, strained manner. Jim warned me the other night that Falcone won't hesitate to kill me. I really, really wish he would've told me that before I offered to help his men. 

I don't know what he's going to have me doing, but I have a feeling I won't exactly like it when I see it. From meeting Fish today, I have a pretty good idea what I'll be up against. I pray I'm wrong. I hope that I haven't just gotten myself involved in a gang. 

But what can I do about it now? Tell James? No, he will storm Falcone's palace and get himself killed. How can I refuse, either? I've already agreed to it. There's no backing down. 

"Just keep this between us, right?" He winks, finally drinking his coffee. 

"Of course," I say, running my hands through my light brown hair. "I can't have Jim worrying about me, now."

"Good. Good girl. You really are a very lovely young lady, you know that?" He asks as he stands and pays our waiter. "I'm serious. You have a heart of gold. Don't let this city bring you down."

"Um... Thank you."

 


	4. The Darkness and The Penguin

"Hey, I want to take you out to dinner sometime this week, just to show that I'm on board with you working at the hospital," Jim announces over the phone. "I'm serious."

I sigh, flipping through sheets on my pink clipboard. "I dunno, Jim. If you're going to preach to me about staying safe, I'm not going to show up." Not just because I don't want to hear a lecture, but because I'm afraid that if he preaches, I'll end up spilling Falcone's alliance.

It's like I can hear him roll his eyes. "I'm not gonna do that, Sera. I'm serious. Harvey and I had a good long talk about it."

"Okay, then I guess I can meet you. Where do you want to go?"

"Bamonte's Restaurant. Have you heard of it?"

"Eh, not really. Italian?"

"Yes, ma'am. Okay, I don't want to keep you from work. I'll meet you tonight at six?"

"Sure, I'll be off by then."

"K. See ya."

"Bye. Hello, Mr. Mason. How are we feeling today?" I drop the flip phone in my pocket, wash my hands and step into the patient's room.

The old man greets me with a quiet hello and a groan. It's only my third day on the job and my heartstrings are already being tugged. Mr. Mason suffered a bad car accident just four days ago. He'd been stuck under his vehicle for five hours. Haven't we all seen  _that_  before? Accidents are bad, but being old and in that situation? Now that is even worse. What hurts my heart more than anything is that he could've and would've ended up just like my dad.

I take his blood pressure and listen to his heart.

"Y'know, you look just like my wife."

"I do?" I ask, pocketing the stethoscope. A co-worker warned me that old men often refer to younger nurses as their wives or sisters, to get their attention. It isn't always a malevolent thing, but it's something to look out for.

"Yeah," he murmurs, sighing painfully. "You have nearly identical eyes, though hers will always be brighter. The same, light tone to her skin. Her hair was way better looking, though."

I laugh under my breath, jotting down some final notes about his condition. "What'd it look like?"

His gray eyes seek to the ceiling, as if they have some secret encryption upon them. "It was blonde, not light brown like yours. It was curly and long. Just gorgeous, I tell ya."

"Ah, two shades does make a difference," I comment, smirking. "She sounds very pretty, Mr. Mason. I would've loved to meet her." I finally wheel the equipment out of his room and set it against the door.

"No, you wouldn't've." He says, extremely softly.

"Why not?" I pop my head through the door.

"I'll tell you on your next visit."

"Alright."

I don't think much of it at the time. I have more on my plate to worry about. 

***

"Hi, Mr. Falcone?"

"Yes, Sera. Do you have a schedule for me?"

"I do. Can you swing by and get it? Or shall I just give you some times?"

"Oh, I have a man at the hospital right now. He'll get it from you in five minutes."

"G-great."

Why does he have someone at the hospital... where I work? And how does he know where I am? It would take at least 3 minutes to get to the floor I work on, and then another three minutes to find the right desk, if I'm even at the desk.

"I'm here to collect the file." 

Five minutes?! More like five seconds. 

"Here's the schedule," I hand it to a scruffy looking man with a grudge against the world, no doubt. 

"Falcone will get back with you. Thanks."

After my normal routine around the hospital, I return to Mr. Mason's room before the end of my shift. I write down the name and contact number of his next nurse, check his vitals and wait on him to tell me about his wife. 

"You said you were going to tell me something on my next visit, Mr. Mason. About your wife?"

"Yes, I did," he wheezes, rolling onto his side to face me. "Listen, girl. I wanna tell you a story."

I do as he asks. On command, I sit myself in the doctor's chair directly across from him. All of my papers and charts rest upon the counter only a few feet away. He has my complete attention.

"There's a darkness in this world. Not just in Gotham, not just in whatever shit-town you might've come from."

I open my mouth to answer but he hushes me.

"It's a darkness so true and present that it's hidden."

"That doesn't make sense, Mr. Mason."

"Yes, it does," Mason rolls onto his back and breathes heavily for a few seconds before continuing. While he's stopped, I study. His eyes have faded to a dim gray from the years, just like my mother's. The side of his face is stricken with veins and capillaries; so much so that they almost look like a scar from a war. His hair is very short and dark gray. I assume it used to have been black. "The darkness is hidden within the hearts of men in this town. Don't be one of those stupid girls to miss it, Sera."

"Where is all of this coming from?" A brow arches. It's like he's speaking into my soul. It's like he's warning me not to get involved with Falcone... Or it could just be my guilty conscious. 

"From experience. But it's not just men you need to watch out for. It's the women too."

I lean back in the chair and chew my pen in thought. "Are you saying this because of your wife, Mr. Mason?"

"I'm saying it because I have seen things, young lady. Dark things. I see a sense of danger within you. Don't let–"

Before he can finish, he coughs and cries. I stand to check his vitals, but the piercing sound of a flatlined patient rings through my ears. It's such an immediate thing that I can't even catch my breath as I pound on his chest.

"I need help in here!"

I begin the resuscitation ritual, but before the actual doctor's can get in, he has completely gone. No brain or heart activity to be found. We call the time of death and I'm relieved from my shift.

All the way to Bamonte's, I can't help but feel uneasy- _sad_ , even. In the distance I can even hear the sound of the monitor, telling me that I've failed. I should've saved him! Why couldn't I have just saved him?! And what the  _hell_  did he mean by that prophesy?! How manipulative of him to grab my full attention just before dying?

"Hey Scrubs," Jim smirks, giving me a quick hug and leading me to our table. "Whoa. What happened?"

"How can you tell something happened?" I snap, taking my seat.

He sighs, "I just can."

"I had a patient die on me today." I rest my head in my hands. "I was literally right there! He was telling me some BS prophesy about 'the darkness' and then just died! Of course I tried to bring him-"

"There was nothing you could do."

"That's where you're wrong, Jim! I'm an emergency room nurse. Isn't that my job?"

"Hey, can you lower your voice? I don't think the whole kitchen heard you," James warns.

As he does, I glance up to the window opening up to the kitchen. Standing right there,  _center_  of the window is a man. He dons a nice suit, but his stare startles me. He has thin lips that rests in a natural scowl against his pale face.

Jim whips around quickly and the man is gone.

"Anyways, Sera. I know that your first death can be hard. If you need to talk about it, Harvey and I both understand the pain you're going through. Just promise me you're going to talk to someone about it."

"Yeah sure," I mumble, now glancing over the menu. "As long as you go back to counseling."

"I don't need counsel- yes, waiter? I would like the Chicken Parmesan."

"Chicken Alfredo for me, please."

"It'll be right out."

Jim's about to scold me once again when a thick, big figure strolls up.

"James Gordon!" He greets and shakes my brother's hand firmly.

"Don Maroni! How you doin'?"

"I'm going well! Doing well. To be honest, after our last little chat, I didn't expect you to be frequenting my restaurant anymore."

Jim laughs nervously. "Well, my sister's sort of new to this part of town. I thought I'd take her a nice a place for a change."

Maroni turns to me and wears a smile so sincere, I swear there's no one in the entire world he so wants to see. His demeanor and appearance makes him menacing, but his laughter is jolly... like a murderous, italian Santa Claus; he promises to bring you presents, but only if you do him a favor first. If you don't do the favor, he punches your face in. 

"This is your sister?" He gawks at me. Maroni reaches for my hand and places two kisses on the back of my smooth skin. "She's way too beautiful to be related to a chump like you! No offense."

"None taken," he smiles in a nervous manner. "She's way better looking than I."

Maroni agrees with a nod of his head. "What do you do for a living, Miss...?"

"Sera. Sera Gordon. And I'm a nurse at the Gotham City Hospital. Y'know, the one in the center of those stores downtown?"

"Yeah, yeah! I know the place. Maybe I'll push my men down the stairs a little more often if it means I get to see this beauty."

"Alright, Maroni. That's enough," James warns, cooly.

I can't say I'm not flattered. By all means, I feel my cheeks growing red. I suddenly feel shier than usual. But there's just something about this Don Maroni character that makes me terribly apprehensive.

"People die in there," I slightly narrow my eyes at the man. "It's not a joke."

"I didn't mean any harm-"

"Don Maroni," another, sly voice comes into play. After releasing myself from Maroni's grip, I realize it's the man whose eyes met with mine earlier in the kitchen. "I'm afraid there's been a setback."

The bigger, thicker man turns to reprimand his accomplice. "Penguin, don't you see I'm greeting Jim Gordon and his lovely sister? Couldn't this have waited?"

"Of course, sir. My apologies, sir."

Jim shoots the man at his side a look that can kill.

"Penguin?" I ask, taking my seat across from Jim in the booth (once again). "Where'd you get that name?"

At that moment, the three people stare at me as if they're trying to figure out if I'm serious, or just horribly rude.

"I'm being serious."

"Because he looks like a Penguin," Maroni says, "dear."

"Maroni!" Jim slams his fists down on the table. "I said that was enough."

The criminal lord returns the look of ice at my brother.

"Besides," I pipe in quickly and calmly. "Just because he may look like a penguin doesn't mean he should get the nickname attached to him."

Only the Penguin addresses me. When he does, it's apologetic– timid, even. "I assure you, ma'am. I don't mind the name."

"Oh please. You may be able to lie to those two retards but you can't to me," I outstretch my hand to him. "What's your actual name?"

"Os-"

Jim gives the Penguin a warning glare, once again. The testosterone is enough to make me sick of this little dance. Can't my brother go to one event without starting a fight?

"Let him tell me his name, Jim," I quip and smile back at the man. "I'm Sera. Sera Gordon."

"Oswald Cobblepot," he shakes my hand generously. "It's a pleasure, Sera. What do you do for a living?"

"Pleasure's mine. Oh, I'm a nurse at the Gotham hospital," I nod curtly and adjust the hem of my blue scrubs. "Jim. I think it's about time we make our exit, don'tchya think?"

The energy from Maroni and James is  _still_  not anything I want to be a part of. It's deadly and threatening. The way Maroni's dark eyes stare into my brother's like it's a hobby almost make me vomit.

"I agree," Oswald adds lightly. "Besides, Don Maroni, we have urgent business to attend to."

"The Penguin's right," Maroni agrees, releasing his gaze. "Sera, it was a pleasure. I sure hope you and your brother return soon."

"Thanks." Jim throws down some cash on the table. "We won't be."

***

Right before dropping me off, Jim explains the vast and confusing hierarchy of Gotham's criminal system. He spills about about Fish Mooney, Don Falcone, the Penguin and even what he knows Maroni. "Don Maroni is the second highest up."

"Oh yeah?" I ask. "So, is Fish first?"

He smirks, "Oh, no. Don Falcone is. He hardly ever shows his face in public. He was a friend of our father's, supposedly."

The breath is taken from my lungs. How can I even fathom going against my family like this... The man who is keeping my mother up in a nursing home is running Gotham's every crime. I work in a hospital, yet I'm absconding in the night to fix up gang members so that they can go back to destroying lives!

"Was he?" I inquire in a mere whisper.  "I can't imagine dad being friend's with a criminal ruler."

"Well, he told me he was. And hey, don't mention Oswald Cobblepot to anyone, okay?"

"Sure," I say, stepping out of the car. Let's just add it to the list of things I'm not supposed to mention. "Why?"

"Because I was supposed to kill him."

The breath that just re-entered my lungs leaves again. "Why?"

"'Cause I don't believe in Gotham's justice system. There's a 'program' everyone working for the city is in. If I didn't want Barbara to be taken out I had to kill him. Look, I normally wouldn't have told you, but I know I can't lie–"

"And instead, you spared him?"

"Yeah... It's something that riding on my conscious. I don't regret killing him, but I do wish he would've listened to me and stayed out of Gotham. Harvey knows... but don't say anything else about it... to  _anyone_ , okay? Hey, have you heard from Barb?"

I shake my head.

"She left Gotham for a while. I'm worried about her."

"I'll let you know if you get a call."

He thanks me and drives over to Barb's empty house, where he's currently 'house-sitting'.

My sleep is far from easy. I'm too worried over the fact that Barbara might end up like Oswald Cobblepot, except this time there will be no escaping death. And what is the 'program' Jim mentioned? Will I be initiated soon enough? Does it even matter?

I feel like I've sold my soul to the devil. 

 


	5. A Part of the Family

Over the next few weeks, I hear nothing from Falcone– except for when he has one of his men come get my new schedule. Jim doesn't push me to get out of the city. I don't receive any contact from Maroni... and I finally begin to feel at peace with my decision to help Falcone. I'm completely out of control and I love it! I feel nearly hysteric as I stride into work, knowing I can get called up by Falcone at any moment and there's nothing I can do about it.

I can't run and tell James, not Harvey, not Fish; no one. It's a secret to forever remain in the clutches of Don Falcone and I. Besides, am I not doing more work to help the city there than waiting for old people to die and babies to be born? I suspect that the gang involvement in Gotham is the main reason we usually have slower nights in the hospital. I'm not saying they're empty. The virtuous still live in parts of Gotham, but they're becoming fewer and farther between.

In the very early hours of the morning after a shift, I get a call.

"Mmmm. Hello?" I ask. I try and force my eyes open, but it's just not worth it yet. None of it is. Why have I even answered? It's my day off.

"Sera? Hello. Can you hear me?"

It's Falcone. A chill runs down my spine and I sit straight up. "Yes, I can."

"I didn't mean to wake you," he apologizes. "I just read your schedule. It looks like you have the rest of today off. Do you think you can come by and do a little work for me?"

"Sure," I say, uneasily as ever. I knew this would happen! I knew that one day after I gave him my schedule, he'd call me up. 

"Meet me at Fish Mooney's in an hour."

"An hour?" I check the time on the clock on my bedside table. "That's 4:30, sir."

"I know. Thank you for your services. I'll see you then."

The phone hangs up. As it does, I scream into my pillow. Oh, I've done it now. Great job, Sera. Aren't you proud of yourself for getting involved in a gang? _Proud of you._

Finally I push myself off the bed and get ready. I slip on my blue scrubs and pack a backpack of essential things I could possibly need: some gloves, bandages, rubbing alcohol, a stitching kit and gauze. Checking myself over the mirror, I make sure my appearance is at least a little acceptable. My shoulder-length hair is pulled back into a ponytail and yesterday's makeup is all but wiped off. Yep. Good enough for 4:30.

"Sera?!" Jim nearly jumps at my presence. "Where are you going?"

"Where've you been?"

"You answer first!"

"I've been called into work," I lie. "Now you!"

"I've been out looking for Barb. I still haven't seen her." The expression on his face makes my heart sink to my toes for lying to him. He has such a good heart and wants to see her found so badly. His eyes droop down to his shoes. "I hope you have a good day."

"Thanks... I hope you find her."

He nods and plops on the couch, switching on the TV. I slip out of the house and into the night. How unusual it feels. The freezing wind blasts against my face as I roll down the windows of the car. The promise of danger is refreshing.

***

"Ah, Sera! I'm so glad you could make it!" Falcone greets me at the very moment he sees me walk into Fish's.

The place looks like a wreck. There's obviously been some gunfire and chaos here. Oh great. My first mission is to fix up some probably pissed off gangsters. Thanks, Falcone.

"Yeah, it's no problem." I mutter, looking at the shambles. The place used to be so elegant. It's weird looking at something that was once so beautiful utterly shattered under my feet feet.

Standing at his side is a short, odd looking character. After staring at the back of him for a few seconds, he finally turns and faces me.

Oh crap. It's the Penguin.

"Hey, it's Sera Gord-"

"Can you not?"

"What?"

"You know, I'm not into the gangs and stuff, so I'd like my name kept out of this, Don Falcone. If that's okay with you," I ask it like a question, but I'm firm, like a statement. Coming off weak and defenseless will not come to my aid in this battle.

"Of course. Just Sera, it is."

Oswald shrugs at it. "I know your brother."

"Do you?" Oh  _shit_.  My brother saved his life. As if for the thousandth time today, I get goosebumps all along my arm. The cold realization hits me in the stomach.

"Yeah," he bobs his head. "I believe we know each other quite well."

"I'm sure you do, since he spared your life. I'm only guessing that since you're back in the family you originally started in, that's out of the water."

"Ooooh. This one's good, Don Falcone."

Falcone laughs softly and shakes his head at the two of us. "I suppose you ought to officially be a part of this family, Sera." He says, without looking at me. Instead, he stares at the mess.

I visibly cringe at the induction.

Cobblepot has clearly taken note of my reaction and instead of telling his boss, he smirks.

"Where is Fish?" I ask, clearing up the awkward silence. 

"She betrayed me," Falcone says. At his feet is a dead girl, no more than two years older than I. "Action had to take place. I assume she's in hiding or dead. Hopefully the latter."

"Ah." The dead woman looks sweet, kind and innocent. As if I needed any more of a reason to get sick, this just adds to the pile.

"Well, let's get you to work then, Sera?" The leader of Gotham escorts both Oswald and I to a back room.

When we get there, I take note that it's nothing like I would've thought. I thought Falcone was about to take me to some distant office of his and officially bring me into the family. No, instead the room he leads us into is like a warehouse. It's large– big enough to fit two firetrucks, at least. The ground is some wood surface, unlike the inside of Mooney's. The wall are a dull, faded brown.

"Where are we?"

"It's best not to ask questions if you don't wish to get involved with the _'gangs and stuff'_ ," Falcone advises. "Anyways, this is where we bring the sick and wounded members of our family."

All around the bottom floor of the warehouse, members of the "family" lay on operation tables or sit huddled around trash can fires. A single doctor jumps around to each of the groups, asking if they're able to take the pain and then moves around to the next little group.

"You only have one doctor?"

"Yes. I'm sad to say that staff is running low. That's why I'm so glad you offered your services to me."

"Yeah, it's for my mother," I reassure. "I have no interest in being in the family."

At the moment, Oswald gives me a look. It's shocked and pleasantly surprised all in the same. Like I just hurt his feelings and told him the coolest secret in all of the world.

"Your father was in our family, y'know."

I shrug, finally peeling my eyes away from Cobblepot's. "He's dead and gone." The very words I say betray my feelings. Benjamin Gordon is still very alive within my heart. I see him in myself and in Jim every single day.

"The blood still lives on, my dear. You cannot simply run from that," he comments, leading me over to a huge bedroom-like dresser. "This is where all of our supplies are."

"Oh, I brought stuff... just in case."

Falcone smiles a fatherly grin towards me. "You are always prepared. It's a trait I love about you."

I want to tell him that he knows nothing about me. But I keep my mouth shut. What other choice do I have? Here, I'm defenseless. Oswald or Falcone can choke the life out of me in a manner of seconds. Instead, I mutter my thanks.

"Certainly. Now, I'm going to have Dr. Numban here explain everything to you about the way we do things. Penguin, you're with me."

"Of course, sir." He says and the two walk out like best friends. Wasn't it just two weeks ago that Oswald was standing at Maroni's side? 

 As the door shuts, the doctor approaches.

"Alright, listen closely. I'm only gonna say this once."

He pushes his thick-rimmed glasses onto the bridge of his stubby nose and starts to explain the different things in the assorted dresser. Fluid and blood rests in the top right drawer; syringes and things like that are in the top left. Gauze, bandages and wraps are in the middle right drawer; medication is in the middle left. Scalpels, scissors and other tools for surgery are in the bottom right; and lastly, the things for decontamination are in the bottom left.

"Okay, I've got it." 

"Go see if Victor Zsasz is okay," he orders and scurries off back to his patients. 

"Um, who is that... exactly?" 

From behind, a dark cold voice says: "That's me."

"Oh," I turn to see a bald man with eyes like chocolate. "Alright, well what happened? Would you like to sit down?"

"Yeah," he says. The way his chocolate eyes light up when I offer him the slightest ounce of attention makes me want to hide. "I got pegged in the arm. Can you stitch it up for me?" He talks with his head. It moves at almost every single word. 

"Of course," I reply and get out the appropriate things from my backpack; I hardly trust the sanitation of the supplied accessories. "Roll up your sleeve for me." 

He does as he's asked. Sliding on gloves, I stand beside the high-rising chair he rests in. 

"Would you like pain medicine? To take the edge off?"

Zsasz shakes his head and never peels his eyes from mine. "Nah. I like the pain."

"Oh... Are you sure?"

"Yes, lady. I'm sure." 

"Oookay." I prepare the rest of the kit and take a look at his arm. The wound is still bleeding. Before I can do any stitching work, I have to stop that first. Without asking or warning, I place some gauze on the wound and press on it. 

As Victor winces, he smiles. 

Does Numban really have to make me take care of this loon as my first job? Seriously? Is he too afraid to take care of Zsasz himself? At this point, I really don't blame him. 

His arms are covered in tally marks. Why? They are obviously not an accident... In fact, they look self-inflicted. 

Victor's smile is toothy and sarcastic. "You wanna know how I got these scars?"

"Um, no. Thank you, though."

He shrugs, "It's your loss, honey."

"My name is Sera." The pressure is released and the bleeding as has stopped. It's time to begin. Wasting no time, I insert the needle into his skin, lace it around, tie it and begin on the next.

Each time I do, he cringes. But not once does he cry or complain about it. 

"I'm done." I announce after the last tie. A piece of gauze is taped over it and he's good to go. "I wish all my other patients were as thrilled about stitches as you are."

"Thank ya, doc! Sure hope to see you around!" 

I'm about to give him further instructions but he jumps off the table and disappears behind the same door Falcone left from.

"You must be faster than that," Nubman scolds from behind me. 

"Sorry."

"Nevermind it," He runs his hands over his bald head. "Get back to work." 

Without another word, I stroll over to different areas and ask if anybody needs anything. They all answer with no, or something perverted. 

Finally I return to Numban. 

"How's it going?"

"It's fine," I grimace. "Everyone seems to be doing alright."

"Hey, nurse lady!" 

"Yes?" I whip around to voice that addresses me. 

He's big, brawly and dark. Under the blue-white lamps, he looks just a little more than terrifying. Plastic sheets covering the entrances of the warehouse whip around violently. A storm's coming. "How about you join my guys and I for some company?"

"No thanks, I'm good."

"Leave the girl alone," Numban warns. 

"And who are you to tell me what to do, doc?" He practically pushes Numban out of the picture. 

I can feel the goosebumps down my arm. "Sorry, I'm going to have to decline. Numban can take care of you."

"Oh come on, sweet–"

"Leave her alone, Dale." A familiar voice comes into play, but it isn't threatening. It's more scolding, than anything. Oswald Cobblepot stands at the door only a few feet from us. "I came to relieve you, Sera." 

"Thanks," I mutter and remove myself from Dale's line of sight. Picking up my backpack, I practically hide behind Oswald. 

"Hasn't Falcone told you not to mess with the pretty nurses?" He stares down my opposer. 

Dale shrugs it all off and scoffs. "I was just havin' a bit of fun."

"Clearly, Miss Sera didn't agree. Next time, I'm afraid there will have to be punihsment." Cobblepot warns and slams the door, leaving us in an uneasy darkness. "Are you okay?"

I slip my backpack over my shoulders. "Yeah, thanks." 

"Not a problem. Follow me out, if you please."

Tailing closely behind him, I notice how strangely he actually walks; his right leg limps. I can tell he's had it fractured and just never gotten it fixed. 

"I'm pretty sure you can get your leg fixed... It must hurt." 

He doesn't stop walking but I can tell I struck a nerve by the way his voice falls. "I don't trust Dr. Numban to do anything about it. And you're only a nurse. There's nothing you can do." He spits it out like he has no other option in the world– like it's a curse. 

"There are other doctors and nurses that can bend to the law." 

He laughs and shakes his head, like I can't possibly understand anything he's gone through. My arms fold across my chest as I take it in. It's times like these that I wish I could just run and run until I pass out. When we're almost back to where we began, he faces me. "It doesn't hurt. Not anymore, at least."

"That's good," I try and encourage him, smiling faintly. 

"Yeah. Yeah it is." He turns back to face his path and leads me to the door. It seems like he has something else to add to his testimony, but he remains silent. 

"Where's Falcone?"

"He had some other business to attend to," he clarifies. "He'll call you when he needs your services again."

"Yeah, sure. No problem."

"Have a good day, Miss Gordon."

"Please, just Sera."

"Of course." Oswald returns my wave and closes the door behind me. 

The sun is just now peeking through the crevices of the buildings. This is my very favorite time of day. The streets of Gotham look like they're lined with gold. My face is overwhelmed with the beautiful, bright light. It's a sign of new beginnings and the end of darkness. 


	6. A Pay Raise

The next few days pass in a haze. The events of my starting night fly through my mind like a never-ending dream. As they do, I'm more and more convinced to run as far away as I can from Gotham. I won't contact Jim, not Falcone, nor my mother. I will just disappear. Perhaps Metropolis is in need of some nurses.

No, no. I can't just pick up my toys and leave, but I also can't just stroll up to the GCPD and tell them what's going on. From what Jim's told me, that would just end a few scoffs and that'd be the end of it. On the other side of that, I can't just waltz up to Don Falcone and tell him I quit! That's a death wish.

So one stormy night, I find myself back at Fish Mooney's. Instead of on a business trip, I'm there drown my affairs in a drink or two... or four. And rather than being Fish's place, it's now Oswald's. The red neon sign no longer exists in the front window. Rather, there's a purple umbrella taking it's place. 

The inside is completely different, too. The lavishly golden ambiance of the club has all but faded. A blue and purple one has taken it's place. Gloriously so, if I do say so myself. Loud music blares from the stage. Every single note that courses through my ears makes me feel better and refreshed. Live music just has a way of working through the soul, like a detox or something.

"Hello," the bartender greets with his charming, white smile. The kid can't be any older than eighteen. "Can I get you something?"

"Sure, kid. Don't really have a preference. Just make it fruity," I smirk and turn my attention to the music.

"I'll get right on it."

For one sweet, blissful moment, I get lost in the music. The drum pounds heavily through my ears; the bassist slaps his four strings, giving the song depth. Two guitarists stand beside each other; their connection is obviously a deep one, for they don't even have to lock eyes before bouncing off each other's melody. The lead singer dances and saunters around the stage like he owns the place. He's certainly owning that guyliner.

"Sera Gordon?" Oswald's voice makes me jump, even though the music is screeching loud.

I sigh and take my drink as he sits on the purple stool beside mine. "Hello, Oswald."

"I didn't know you frequented this place." He then nods at the bartender who on cue, whips out a bottle of wine I can't even recognize.

"I don't," I clarify. "I'm just here for a drink."

"Oh, is that it? I bet you just couldn't stay away from this place. It's like an addiction, you see."

For one single second, my eyes gaze behind him. Oh my God. He's right. There are plenty of bars around Gotham. Why did I  _have_  to come to this one?

He rolls his crystal blue eyes. "I didn't mean to get you all worked up, now. Take- take another drink."

I do as he says.

"Oh you  _Gordons_ ," he chuckles. The bartender hands him a glass of the fancy wine he requested. "I bet you've thought of leaving, huh?" Oswald asks his question after swallowing. From the looks of it, it isn't an easy ride down the pipe.

My eyes widen at the accusation.

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it, Sera Gordon. I wouldn't blame you if you had."

"Where is all of this coming from?" I demand, narrowing my eyes. "I think just a few days ago, you came to my aid."

"Oh, I'm not being hostile." Another sip down. "I'm simply reminding you of the truth. Y'know, when your brother so graciously saved my life, I thought about running away. Just turning my back and leaving Gotham forever."

"What made you come back?"

"A number of things actually," he says, casually. His shoulders slouch over a little more than they did before. I assume it's because he's now comfortable with the conversation. He doesn't seem so stiff anymore. "My mother, for starters."

"I didn't know you had a mother–"

"That's because you know nothing about me."

"Okay, sorry." I roll my eyes, finishing off my chilled drink. "Please continue."

"Anyways, I came back for my mother. She lives in an apartment complex not too far from here. Who would pay her rent if I didn't? She couldn't make it on her own. There's just no way." He waves off the topic as if it's too painful for him to speak of right now. "I also came back because I just couldn't stay away. Gotham is my home. It makes up who I am."

"Wonderful speech, really. The only problem is that I'm not, or have I been involved in a gang."

He almost laughs. "You're not? Last I checked, you just patched up Gotham's lead assassin, missy."

"Who, Victor Zsasz? That guy's a nut-job."

"Yes he is," he agrees. "But he's Falcone's little nut-job. And men like that can be ushered into anything... and everything. Have you seen his tally marks?"

"Yes. Why?"

Oswald shrugs. "One mark for one kill. I'd say he had about...  _thirty_? Just on the arm you saw."

I almost want to barf up my drink. I stitched up an assassin. I made conversation with him. I helped heal a cold-blooded killer! Not to mention, he knows what I look like now! Just one little go-round with Falcone and I can be next.

"Oooh. Do you need a bucket? You look like you're about to spew. Your face is pale, too." He rests the back of his hand on my forehead. "No fever. It can't be a virus. Perhaps you just realized the danger you're actually in?"

I nod, throwing down my new drink and giving myself a brainfreeze. "Agh–" My hands cover my face.

A gentle laugh comes over my ears, reminding me where I am. "Anyways, Sera. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"You don't?" I peep through my fingers. "Why not?"

"Just play the game," he downs his wine and clears his throat. "Bide your time with Falcone. So long as you play little miss nice nurse, you'll be fine. Just don't draw a whole load of attention onto yourself." The alcohol is obviously getting to him. His words aren't as precise and thought out as they'd usually be. Realizing this, he cuts himself off. As do I. "Good luck with that, by the way."

"Yeah. With my brother being who he is, there's no way I can just lay low. And besides, what have I to lose?"

"Besides your life? No, if Falcone thinks you're bringing in too much attention to the family, he'll make you do a favor for him."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Kill someone, maybe. Perhaps he'll get you to collect a debt for him. Bat your eyelashes at some unsuspecting politician. I don't know."

"Oh yeah... I don't want that. I  _won't_  do that. "

"What makes  _you_  so righteous, Sera Gordon?"

I shrug. "Nothing. Look I'm just–" My phone buzzes in my pocket. "It's probably my mom. What's the cost? I need to get out of here before I answer." I lean towards the bartender who shows me the bill.

"It was three drinks," Oswald shakes his head, having lost the relaxation in his voice. "I can get it."

"You're the best!"

"Butch," he calls over his bodyguard. "Make sure Sera gets to her car safely."

"Sure thing, boss." The big guy follows me out. By the time I get to my phone, I've already missed the call.

"Hey," I ask, digging for my keys in my small backpack. "Didn't you work for Fish?"

He nods, folding his arms across his thick chest. "I did, but Penguin took over. He's my new boss."

A frown covers the smile that had worn itself upon my lips just a moment ago. "That hardly seems fair. Do you miss her?"

First, he glances around the street to ensure no one's listening and then he answers. "I do, but that's something I can't think about right now."

His head lowers, like he's in thought. It's at that time I notice a 'V' shaped mark on the side of his forehead. 

"Oh my god, Butch. What happened to your head?"

"Let's just call it a trademark from Zsasz and get over it, okay?"

"Okay," I say, clearly not convinced. "If you need anything, you give me a call, alright?"

He chuckles. "Like you need to get yourself more involved in the mob."

***

"I'm telling you, mom! I'm totally fine."

"No, you are not, young lady. Don't you keep lying to your mother!" Mom angrily wheels herself around the rose bush.

I clip off a red flower and hand it to her. "I'm serious. I'm just exhausted from work."

She scoffs, taking the rose and slipping it in her shirt pocket.

The Higher Living facility is actually better than I expected it to be. Their information pages mentioned nothing about a large, backyard garden! And yet, here it is. It's practically my mother's favorite place in the whole, wide world. Everytime I come to visit her, she's out here. She's yet to tell me what she actually does, though. Sometimes she stares at the flowers and other times she's just sitting in her wheelchair, looking at nothing and everything all at the same time.

"Why would I lie to you?!"

"Because you're involved with some–" I expect her to say 'gang'. The word is right on her lips, I can feel it! Brace for impact. We're going in for a crash landing. " _man_ , aren't you?!"

"A man?" The relief comes over my mind like a crashing, loud wave. "No, no. Mom, I don't really date all that much."

"Well, you should!" She scolds. "You're going to waste all that beauty and kindness on some dying old man!"

She has  _no_  idea.

"Mom, the right guy will come along," I shrug, no longer hiding behind the violets. "It just takes time. I don't want to be in and out of relationships, like Jim. He's already moved on from Barbara, you know. There's this new girl, Lee Thompkins that he met at the Asylum. She's a doctor."

Mother huffs, rolling her eyes. "What if you've–" She pauses. "I'm sorry, dear. Do you work here?"

"No, ma'am." I shake my head, smiling faintly. "I'm just visiting."

"It's a lovely place, isn't it?"

"Definitely. I'll let you get back to your afternoon."

The worker who checked me in is also the one to check me out.

"How is she?" He asks.

"The same as always." I grimace, peeling off my sticker and tossing it in the trash. 

She's fading faster and faster. What will it even matter if I tell her the truth? She'll just forget it in five minutes. She'll scold me, maybe even cry... and then it will all be over. There's one thing she'll never understand, though. She won't understand why I'm going to keep helping Falcone. And perhaps neither will I.

***

"Sera? I'm afraid I need you again," Falcone declares over the phone. "Meet me at Oswald's in an hour."

Gloves pop off my hand and I let down my straightened hair after I step out of the O.R. "You got it. My shift just ended. I'll head over there now."

"Great. See you soon."

"I'm heading out," I tell my boss, Rachel.

She gives me a curt nod before spinning around in her desk, like she's forgotten to tell me something. "Hey, Sera. The staff is having a get-together at Oswald's this Friday. Perhaps you'd like to join."

Oswald's? Really? I almost facepalm in front of her. "Yep. Sure. I don't think I have anything going."

"Oh, feel free to invite your brother."

No. No. No.  "Sure. I'll see if he's free."

"Great," the dark brunette blushes softly and turns back to her computer. Seriously? My boss has a crush on my brother? I'll feel bad if I don't warn her about it now.

"He's dating Lee Thompkins... Can he bring her?"

Her countenance drops. "Oh... Uh sure. Of course he can."

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow."

On the way to Oswald's, I focus on relaxing myself. What if Cobblepot actually told Falcone of our little talk and I'm walking into an ambush of angry mobsters? What if they're waiting to pound my face in? Or worse?!

Walking through the doors of the club, I feel like I'm about to faint just by being here. Why didn't I run when I had the chance? Now it's too late and I'm about to die.

"Sera? I'm honestly surprised to see you," the owner of the club waddles around from behind the bar. He sets down a clipboard and pen. "We're just taking some inventory. Why are you here, might I ask?"

"Is Falcone here, Oswald?"

"Not that I've seen."

"Ah, Sera! You're early."

"Found him." Oswald winks and returns to his work.

"Hello, Don Falcone. What can I help you with?"

He strides up, donning the same fathery grin he always greets me with. It's eerie. 

I've never noticed until just now, he's always wearing dark black gloves. Does he wear them to sluff of the guilt? I certainly hope so. I hope he feels bad for every single innocent bastard he's indirectly murdered. "Hello, my dear. I'm so glad to see young people like yourself show initiative by being punctual."

"Well, you know me," I laugh uneasily. "Always the overachiever."

Oswald shoots me a sideways glance.

Falcone puts an arm around my shoulder and leads me back to Oswald's office. "Is it unlocked?" He calls.

"Yes, sir!"

Carmine walks us in and shuts the door behind me. "Please take a seat, Sera."

"S-Sure." I do as he says. By this time, my heart's beating so hard, I swear it's about to pop out of my chest and shoot out of his window. I also notice that I've been holding my breath... and I can't let it go yet.

"My dear, I'm afraid there's been a mishap."

"Where?" What can he possibly know of my thoughts? I'm good, right? I haven't spilt so much information that– shit. I've forgotten all about my little chats with Butch and Cobblepot last night. Does he suspect something's wrong by the way I talked with them?

"Well, Dr. Numban's been in an accident... He won't make it through the night."

"How do you know?" I inquire, slowly regaining my breath. This can't be just about what I've said to the two.

He sits himself down in Oswald's chair and folds his hands across his propped up knee. "He was leaking secrets to Maroni's family. Including one's about you."

My breath is lost again. My hands tap and dance along my knees as a common nervous tactic. I also bounce my leg and chew on my cheek. "What has he said?"

"Just that you were Jim Gordon's sister. Apparently, word got out about him being your relative. It's truly nothing to worry about. You are safe as long as you're with us. I actually brought you back here to offer you his spot in running our little clinic. You'll be our number one doctor in the family."

"Don Falcone," I begin, exhaling deeply. "I'm honored, but-"

"Before you begin, let me tell you that it pays."

Money is an issue. I've liked to pretend it's not, but it truly is. Perhaps if I can work up enough, I won't have to keep relying on Falcone to pay for my mother. Maybe after a while, when we get some new recruits, I can just fade into the background and let someone else take my place.

"I'm not a doctor," my head shakes as I'm taking it all in. The relief and stress at the same time is wearing on my stomach. Nausea comes upon my gut in waves. "And I've already said that I don't want to be involved with the gang."

"You have all the training you need. If anything is critical enough to need severe emergency care, just put them out of their misery."

"What sort of hours will I be having to put in?"

"Just a few more than you are now. Perhaps request more time off at the hospital."

"I'm asking because Jim cannot know that I'm helping you."

"Why not? If you don't mind me asking, of course."

"He'll come in guns ablaze, and I just can't have him committing suicide. He's all I have left... Not to mention, how much it will toll on him to know that I'm sort of betraying everything he believes in."

He nods in approval, like he understands the situation. How can he possibly? He has no idea of what this is going to entitle me to do! I'll be playing a double-life for Falcone! I can just see it now. One day, Jim will ask what's wrong with me and I'll spill it all to him. "I understand. We'll be happy to assist you in any way we can, once you agree, of course."

"I'll do it, but I have a few conditions."

"Of course. I wouldn't expect a woman like yourself to work for free. May I have what they are?"

"I'm not going to kill. That's my number one rule, Don Falcone." I say, trying to sound as gravely as possible.

"That's understandable. Anything else?"

"Yes. I do not want to be 'identified' with the family. I am a citizen of Gotham and a nurse who helps out an old family friend. I don't want to be a part of any thug...action."

"Also, completely understandable. Just to clear things up, I hardly send a female on errands. But yes, I will keep you out of the field as much as I can."

"And lastly, as I've mentioned before, Jim nor my mother can hear anything about this."

"Yes. It will not happen. No one besides yourself and I know where your mother is located. And we will do our best to keep your brother out of it. So do we have a deal?"

I shake his outstretched hand. "Yes." I can't believe the very words that are coming out of my mouth. "Now, what exactly will I have to do that's different than what I'm doing now?"

"Come, let me show you."


	7. Dr. Sera Gordon

"As the head doctor, you'll get to choose your own base of operations. Here, look." Falcone pulls out a table-wide map of the city. Each building is outlined with different colors. "Our family is in blue, Maroni's is green and the residentials are yellow. Numban chose this building here." He points to one I don't recognize.

"I thought he chose this place."

He shakes his head. "No. This place  _has_  a warehouse, but it doesn't have to be the base. It certainly can be if you'd like it to."

"Yes. I'd like the base to be here. It'll give me quicker access if I need to get here quickly. All of these other places look farther away from my house."

"Then we'll have arrangements made to bring the other equipment here," he says, folding up the blueprints and sliding them into his pocket.

My life is definitely not my own, anymore. By taking the head doctor position, I've just about lost all of my freedom. Well, I feel like I have. I can't escape Gotham anymore. That's out of the question. And I absolutely cannot let Jim know.

Secrets upon secrets upon secrets.

"Great."

"As for your other responsibilities, you'll have to put together quarterly information for our 'board'. They consist of a few of my most trusted associates."

I quirk a brow. "You have a board?"

"Of course. This is a business, after all."

I scoff.

"I know you don't agree with all of our tactics, Sera. But you're one of us now," he clears his throat and stands from the booth. "At least, you're under our protection."

"Is she?" Butch picks up Falcone's wine glass.

"Yes, she is, Butch. Now, Sera. You will have people looking up to you. Everyone in the family will be coming to you for medical insight. Do you think you can handle it?"

Can I? "I think so."

"Good. Good girl. I expect you'll do just fine. I'm sorry to leave so soon but I am a busy man," he chuckles and pats my arm. "Call me if you have any questions. I'm sure Penguin and Butch will also be happy to help you in any way they can. Isn't that right, boys?"

Butch nods and Oswald smiles.

"Of course, Don Falcone."

The boss leaves, along with his five bulky henchmen. As soon as the door closes, Cobblepot bursts into laughter. Butch starts a slow clap.

"Wow, Sera Gordon, you're doing a  _fantastic_  job at keeping your head down! I almost believed you didn't want the job!"

Sitting at the bar, I glare at both of them. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Um," Cobblepot tries to reel in his laughing. "Turn it down?"

I shrug, folding my arms. "I think I'll be fine at this job–"

"You've worked once, Sera." His smile drops. "You don't know half of what Numban's seen."

"I guess I'll just have to learn quickly."

"I must– I  _must_  be in time loop! I think Jim said those same exact words to me! Didn't he, Butch?"

The lackey nods. "He's right, Sera. It's a dog eat dog world."

"And you've just become the fresh meat." Oswald finishes, "Besides, what does your brother think about this new arrangement? He can't be all that pleased with it. If I know your brother–"

"Stop!" I yell, slamming my hands on the bar. "Don't bring my brother into this!"

"Oh _honey_ ," he gives me a pitiful look. It's the second time that I've wanted to sock Penguin in the nose and run until I can't breathe. "He was into this way before you."

He has, though. It started when he didn't just keep his nose out of the Wayne murders. I remember how scared Jim was when he came home. In fact, he locked all the doors and windows. He even set his gun beside his bed.

After Oswald came back alive, Falcone came after him and Barbara. I just assumed he didn't come after me because we had a deal. Jim didn't tell me too much more after that, except everything was okay and he was safe. Shortly after, Barbara left Gotham.

"Oh, look at her. The gears are turning, Butch. She's piecing it together."

What have I done? If I do anything against Falcone, he can just use Jim against me. After kidnapping Barbara, he made it clear that he is in no playing game. I've assumed that Falcone will be easier on me because he knew my father... but that's clearly not how he works.

But hasn't this always been the case? Jim has always been a threat, as has my disobedience to Falcone. Now that I'm in a bigger position, it's just amplified.

"What have I done?" I mumble, resting my head in my arms.

"Awe. There, there," Cobblepot gently touches my shoulder. "I'm sure in a perfect world, Jim will just accept what you've become."

Without another word, I storm out of Oswald's and slam the door.

***

"I've made a terrible mistake."

Harvey finishes off his burrito and raises a brow. "Have you?"

"Yeah," I say. My food is left untouched. There's no way I can eat after the choice I made last night. "Yeah, I have."

"I was about to ask you about it. You look like you've seen a ghost, y'know. Are you gonna eat that?"

I hand it over to him and stare at the damp sidewalk. "It never occurred to me just how disgusting this city is."

"Yeah? Is it comforting to know it's filthy?"

I shake my head, inhaling sharply. "No. It makes me sick."

"So what are you going to do about it? You're just a nurse, Sera." His brows furrow like he's confused as to why I even called him up in the first place.

"Falcone offered to put my mom in a nursing home. In exchange for that, I wanted to help him."

"Oh, you didn't."

"I did," I admit. "He suggested that I help him patch up his men. But Harvey, I didn't know he was a criminal! I just thought something happened to his bodyguards. When I got there, I realized what I did."

"Did you tell Jim?"

" _Hello_ , do I look stupid to you?" My brow arches and I finally meet his eyes. The amount of disappointment in them makes my stomach drop. "I thought about running away, but I stayed because of my mother. Anyways, he called me up last night, asking if I could help him and he offered me a job."

"Doing what?"

"The head doctor apparently was in an 'accident'. He spilt some secrets to Maroni's family. He offered to pay me to take up his position."

"This is some serious stuff." He rubs his forehead in thought.

"I said yes."

"You said  _what_?!"

"If I can build up enough money, I won't have to rely on Falcone to take care of my mother, anymore. I can fade into the background and slip out of the gang... and I saw what they did to Butch."

"Do you just  _want_  to be in a gang? No, you don't just  _slip_  out of Falcone's family, Sera." He exhales deeply, tossing his and my food in the trash can.

"Don't you think I know that?! It's hard enough to go against everything I believe in. It's even harder knowing that I can never get out. It's hope, Harvey."

"No, it's stupid. You just need to stay in the position you're at and maybe one day Falcone will let you out if you ask him nicely. He's getting soft in his old age. There is hope. It's just not right now." He sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose.

AI go back to staring at the ground. Tears swell up in my eyes like the unforgiving promise of consequence.

"And now," he speaks like he's lost in his own thought. "If you do anything against the family, Jim can and will be used as a motivator. Your mom will, too. Everything you believe in has become a punishment. They can make you kill someone, Sera!"

"I've already told him that I will not kill."

"Do you think Falcone cares about what you say you will and won't do? He has his ways."

The hot, steamy moisture pours down my face.

Another sigh from Harvey and I'm pulled into his arms. The hug breaks me down. "What've I done?" I whisper. "What have I done?"

"Look, look," He lifts my chin. "I think you can make it through this, sister. Just do as Falcone asks and you'll be alright. You can't go pouring your guts to everyone you see, either."

"I won't," I sniffle and pull a tissue from my backpack. "I just trust you."

"Why?" He asks. "I'm certainly no better than you. I put a bullet in a guy for Falcone, except unlike you, I didn't cry about it."

"I guess that's why," I confess. "Please don't tell Jim."

"Oh, there's no way. That's your secret to tell and I don't want to be a part of it. I'm not going to be a part of the hell that breaks loose when he finds out."

"Thanks."

"It's not a problem." He says. His fading eyes focus on the building ahead of us, like he's trying to forget the promise he just made me.

***

"Miss Gordon," Butch greets. "I didn't expect you to return so soon."

"Just because he can be vile doesn't mean that–"

"Ah, you came back just in time. Butch, please escort the doctor back to her work area." The owner orders, dismissively.

My eyes roll. I can see that Butch wants to smart him off in the same way, but he keeps formidable. "You got it, boss." He opens up the door behind the bar and holds it for me. "You're gonna take a left."

"Thanks. I really need to learn how to navigate this place," I chuckle. Telling Harvey about my dilemma really helped boost my morale. He understands the situation I'm in. And if need be, he can cover for me. It's nice to remember that someone has my back in this uphill battle.

"You were saying something about Penguin earlier."

"Yeah. I just think that he isn't vile  _all_  the time. I think that was the moral to my story."

"You've got that right."

"Oh, so you know what I'm talking about?" I ask, running my hands against the wall for bearings. The backway to the warehouse is completely dark. The only light is from the window of the door leading back into the club.

He laughs, "Oh yeah. Some days he's great. Others, he's a pain in the ass."

"Well, he's a busy man, I guess," I shrug. "That's what my mother used to say to justify my dad's faults."

"It shouldn't be true," he says. "But it is. And don't get the idea that Oswald and I are an old married couple."

I laugh softly, changing the subject off of my father. "I think Oswald's just one of those people. It's not always a bad thing, though."

"You're tellin' me. Right through there," Butch pushes back the plastic for me to walk through. "There was a shootout earlier today. Have fun and good luck."

More men than I can count slouch and lean against trash can fires and operation beds. Blood nearly covers the whole floor. Immediately, they start to rush me, begging for help.

"Alright, listen up!" I shout over the cries of the thugs. Seeing that I'm much shorter than the men, I run to the dresser and climb atop of it. "Please give me your attention!!"

A hush falls over the crowd, and the only sound is that of crackling fires.

"Things are going to change around here. There's only one of me and a ton of you!" A few of the guys crack smirks. "The upper level is for those who are recovering or need no medical treatment. Those who are unharmed, carry a few of the fires up to the level and situate yourselves there. Those that need medical attention, stay on the lower level and make yourselves comfortable. I will get to you as soon as I can. Any questions?"

"Yeah, I got one!" One guy says from the back. "What happened to Numban?"

Do I tell them the truth? Tell them that my boss betrayed the big bad, so I just took his place? Or do I keep myself from becoming fresh meat?

"He was in an accident. He won't be returning."

The crowd murmurs amongst themselves.

"But I assure you I have just as much training as he... and I'm prettier." I joke with them, trying to light the mood. I bat my eyelashes and clasp my hands together.

The talking stops and instead of that, they chuckle.

"Does anyone else have anything to say?"

They shake their heads.

"Good. Get to work!"

As the healthier men push trash cans and settle themselves down on the upper railings, I focus on the wounded. It's like a sea of lost and found. What am I looking for? Is their wound severe enough to need stitches or pain medication? If so, how much and why? Are they already high on some illegal drug? Are they drunk?

I feel like my mind is about to pop open when I actually begin procedures. The first man has a laceration to his side. He needs pain medication and stitches. It's done in record time.

By the time I get halfway across the room, the sun's already sunken beneath the staggered horizon of Gotham. Every blue-white light kicks in and it's crunch time.

"How you holdin' up?" Butch comes to my side and cringes at the sight of the man in front of me.

"I didn't think you were squeamish." I laugh softly, not looking up from my work.

"I'm not," he looks away. "It's just gross to watch you work... There's blood literally everywhere, you know."

"I know, Butch," I say, with edge in my voice. While he watches, I finish wrapping up the man's ankle and send him upstairs. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah. You got anybody that doesn't look... salvageable?"

I pop off the gloves and wipe the sweat off my brow. "Yeah. Over there. I sorta made you a pile. If you can, I'd love it if they were out of here before they stink up the place."

"You got it. Listen, I know you don't like killing people–"

"Yeah. You're right. It's eating away at me," I confess. "I hate this."

"But you're doing the right thing," he finishes his sentence. "If you don't fix up these guys, who will? Then we'll have even more death on our heads."

"You're right." I agree, slipping on more latex gloves.

He smirks and pats my shoulder. "Of course I am. Let's clean this place up, boys." He commands his squad to remove the hopeless off the premises before killing them.

***

I make it my personal goal to get to every single person. And I do, mostly. There's still a groan here and there, but I've checked nearly everyone out. The warehouse is full of people who will be ready to go within a few days.

As I'm about to get to one of the last, Cobblepot waddles in.

"Can I help you?"

He too, cringes slightly at the bloody mess before me. "I just came to say that the club's closed. You can go home." There's a lack of venom in his voice, now. It's... it's actually soft.

I tie the last stitch and send the thug upstairs. "How can I?" I snap towards him, feeling the waves of exhaustion creeping up. "I still have more work to do, thanks."

"Sera. Sera, honestly?" His brows knit together. "They can last. They've lasted without you for years.... When do you work again?"

"Oh shit." It's 2:17. I start work in five hours. "Today."

He shakes his head. "Now, I'm  _telling_  you to go home. A doctor without steady hands is useless."

Taking it into consideration, I know he's right.

"Fine," I grumble and pull off my gloves. They hit the trash can and build the flames. Then, I rip off the apron and feed it to the fire as well. "I'm good to go."

He leads me back to the club and starts shutting down the lights. Not another word is spoken between us. It's just not needed. The door opens, and it closes.

I'm once again strolling through the darkness of Gotham.


	8. Party Time

Surprisingly, I make it to work on time. Unsurprisingly, I get crap for looking so disheveled. 

"Um, Sera?" Rachel asks as we're signing into the hospital. "Have you had a long night?" 

I pinch the bridge of my nose. _Thanks for checking on me, boss. I seriously appreciate it. Yes, I have had a long night. I just spent most of my night patching up thugs who will most likely kill an innocent person sooner or later. But no, I'm good, thanks._

She frowns. "Okay, okay. I won't ask about your personal life. I just want to know if you're going to be able to make it through today. You can take a day off." 

"No, no." I say, typing on a computer. "I'll be fine. I'm just having troubles sleeping and it's getting to me." 

"Ah," she nods. Like a doctor who's found a diagnosis, she begins to give me a lecture. "There are pills to help you sleep. I'm sure if you just visited your doctor, they could prescribe you something. Or there's a tone of oils you can fiddle around with these days. Or–"

"Rachel, I've got it. Thank you though." I can't hear anymore of a lecture right now. I just cannot. I feel bad for being so rude, but I can't deal with it. In all honesty, I probably should be looking into my doctor, but not for sleeping issues. 

She sighs, giving up on her attempt to help me. "Have you asked Jim if he's coming to the get-together tonight?" 

Crap. I've all but forgotten about my brother. "No, I haven't." I exhale sharply, rubbing my head. And a headache kicks in. Great. This is just what I need. "I'll call him right now."

"There's no need–"

"Jim? Yes, it's me."

"What's up? How've you been?" He asks, groggily.

"Not much. Work stuff," I lie. "Hey, the hospital staff is having a get-together tonight. They wanna know if you and Lee would like to come."

I can hear him sigh through the phone. In the distance, he asks his lover if she wants to go. 

"Sure, Jim. That sounds great. I've yet to meet your sister," she says, also sleepily.

"That sounds great, Sera." He says, back into the phone. "What time and where?"

I almost cringe before answering him. I can feel a lecture or a speech about to spew out of his lips. "It's at Oswald's. 7, I believe." 

He tells Lee the information. She agrees. 

"Yes," Jim finally says. I can tell he's trying to sound happy about his choice to agree. Instead, he just sounds annoyed. "We'll see you there." 

"Great."

He hangs up and I'm left with my boss who gives me a bit of an icy-cold glare. 

"They said yes."

"I could tell." Her eyes narrow at me.

"Look, Rachel. I haven't even met Lee. I don't know anything about her. I believe she may be a good match for him, but I don't know. If you don't think I'm not going to put in your name when he moves on, you're crazy." I wink at her and get moving on my routine. 

Her confidence seems to rise. She sits up straighter and adjusts her scrubs. She even smirks a little when she does so. "Oh, hey Sera," Rachel calls to me right before I'm out of earshot.

"Yes, ma'am?" 

"Clean yourself up before you come tonight. I'm tired of seeing you in scrubs." Rachel's smirk doesn't falter. Any other day, she'd be doing me a favor by telling me how hideous I must look. Instead, it bashes on my ego. Do I really look that bad? I mean, can anyone blame me if they knew the truth?  It suddenly burdens my heart to know that I've been so busy and caught up in my own things that I haven't even really bothered to get to know her. Tonight, that will all change.

"Sure. No problem."

***

The scalding, steamy water feels so good upon my skin. I can stay in the shower forever, and be perfectly content. I can just let the liquid wrap me in like a hot blanket. That way, I don't have to step out into the cold, unforgiving world. And oh, I can just fall asleep. Even as I'm standing, I can feel my eyelids drooping.

Alas, duty calls. I slip on black slacks and top it with a loose, beige blouse that compliments my eyes... well, so I think. I've never really been into fashion.

At the very last minute, after drying my hair, and doing some very miniscule make-up, I slip on a pair of black high heels and waltz out the door. 

Jim and Lee meet me at Oswald's only a few minutes before the bigger party arrives. 

"You know this is the Penguin's place, right?" He raises a brow at me. It's never pleasent with him, is it? It's always work, work, work. Never any formalities. It's becoming more and more apparent that my brother has no finesse about him.

"Yeah, I know." I say, trying to remain calm, cool and collected. I seriously don't need any sort of warning from my brother. I'll snap at him before I sit through another lecture.

"Jim," Lee reprimands, hitting his stomach lightly. "You haven't even introduced me to your sister and you're already in police world."

"Sera, this is Lee. Lee, Sera." 

She shakes my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sera." 

"The pleasure's all mine. I hear you're the new M.E for the GCPD?" I ask as we step into the usual glamour of Oswald's club. 

"I am!" She smiles, like she's surprised I know that. Jim and I do talk. It's just not been very frequent. "And I hear you're working at the hospital?"

"Yes, indeed!" I shout over the music. "It keeps me on my toes!" 

"I'm sure it does," she chuckles, taking her seat beside Jim. He, on the other hand is nowhere near relaxed. He looks around constantly, like he's worried someone will appear out of thin air and stab us all in the throats. Which doesn't seem too far-fetched anymore. "Jim, will you relax?" Lee frowns at her boyfriend. 

"Sorry, I'm just having a little trouble. I think you can understand why."

"Sure, but that's all in the past now." She assures, like a mother. 

I want to sass her. Lee is not Jim's mom, and she certainly doesn't need to act like it. What will it help him, anyways? Barbara had a way of letting him know where she stood. She encouraged change within him, but never acted like his mother.

"Sera?" Rachel's voice comes to my ears. "I'm so glad you could make it! Who is this?" She asks of my brother and Lee.... Like she doesn't know.

I almost scoff. "Oh, um. This is Jim. He's my brother and a detective at the GCPD. Jim, this is my boss, Rachel."

"It's a pleasure." He shakes her hand.

"And this is Lee Thompkins. She's the M.E at the GCPD... and Jim's girlfriend."

"How lovely." She flashes her prettiest smile at the two and takes a seat directly across from Jim. Shortly after our introductions, ten or so other women and men from work bustle into Oswald's. They, too bring family members and dates.  

Tonight, three of my worlds can crash. I just have to keep them in moderation. Jim and Lee will be easy to entertain. They're too polite, anyways. If Rachel gets them going in her stories, they'll be reeled in for the night. The next world is my work world. From the looks of it, in an hour or so, they'll be too intoxicated to remember anything. That'll be easy to handle. The last world is the hardest one to deal with. It's completely out of my control and right now, it's run by anyone in the club that happens to recognize me enough to ask about it. 

"What a lovely party," Oswald greets with his typical smile. "I'm Oswald Cobblepot and I run this club. If there's anything I can get you, don't hesitate to tell me."

He's standing right beside me. I can feel the heat of his eyes on the top of my head. I keep my eyes down.

"Oh wait. I remember you, Jim Gordon! How lovely to see you. Oh, and you brought your sister," his tone feel heartwarming. It's about to make me sick. "Sera, isn't that right?" 

I look up and smile, thinly. "Yes. Isn't it Oswald?"

He nods, acting like he's just too flattered that I remember his name. "Yes, ma'am. I hope you enjoy yourself." He winks at me and waddles back to Butch, who stares at the little party like we're all about to take over the place. 

Rachel laughs as he waddles away. "Sera, why  _don't_  you have a boyfriend?" 

I shrug, feeling the eyes of my comrades. "Just because. I'm not big into the dating scene. And there aren't too many great guys around."

Her green eyes roll. "That's no reason. There are  _plenty_  of good men in Gotham."

But, really? Are there? 

"You just have to find them." Lee agrees, touching Jim's arm. 

Rachel struggles to keep her attitude in check. So she calls over a waiter. "Please bring us lots, and lots of booze." 

"You got it, ma'am."

Not an hour passes before every one of my co-workers are dancing on the floor. Whether the dance actually makes sense or not, well, that's debatable. Finally, it's only Lee, Jim and I at the table. 

"Some get-together," I scoff. "I thought this was going to be a relaxed thing. I'm sorry for inviting you to a party."

Lee shakes her head. "Don't apologize. I'm sure it's nice to see that all of them have loose side. I know I did when I worked in a hospital."

"You'll have to tell me about it."

"If you come over for dinner some time, I will. It'll be nice to have someone else who understands." 

"Yeah, I'll be there, shortly." Jim hangs up his phone. "I've got a case. I need to jet. Lee, are you ready?"

"Sure," she nods and gives me some cash to pay for their drinks. "It was great meeting you." The two pop out of the door and abscond into whatever work they're about to get into. It's certainly nothing I'm going to trouble myself with.

As I'm once again left alone, I see myself as within and without. I'm watching the civilians of Gotham relax and enjoy their life. I wonder if I should feel upset with myself that I'm totally ignored by my very own co-workers. But suddenly, I am fine with being alone. That thought is more troubling than feeling ignored. 

I feel compelled to drink as much alcohol as I want and forget about the whole situation. Standing up from the table, I stretch out my arms, almost hitting Rachel in the face.

"Whoa, hey!" She laughs, stumbling over herself. "Watch it, girlie." 

"Sorry," I say. "I'm just tired."

"Then go home! We're obviously fine here! Go rest!"

"Are you sure?" My brow arches. "I can stay."

"Yeah, no. We're fiiiiine. Trust me." 

"Well, okay. But please don't drive tonight? Call a cab or wait until you've sobered up." I finally send her back with her friends after she agrees. I want to know about Rachel. I would even like to be her friend, but getting to know a drunk Rachel is not on my bucket list. 

I don't stop walking until I get to Oswald and Butch who stand at the back, observing the scene. Once there, I wave back at Rachel who gives me a supportive thumbs up and goes back to dancing. It's a good sight, really. She seems to be enjoying herself.

"So those are your friends?" Butch inquires. 

I nod. "Yep."

"They're pretty sad." Oswald comments. 

Why do you say that,  _Penguin_? Because they're not totally crazy like the other people I'm associated with?

"Why?"

"They're boring," Butch agrees with a bob of his head. "I suggest looking for new friends."

"Not all of them are my friends! Just leave it alone." I huff.

Butch's eyes meet with Oswald's. "I think we struck a nerve."

"Me too."

"Alright, so who's going to lead me back to the warehouse?"

"You're not going home?" 

"I can't. There's more people who need my help."

Oswald unfolds his arms and pinches the bridge of home. "Go home. You have a night to rest. Take it." 

"But there's–"

"Sera, I could see the fatigue on your face from a block away."

"Yeah, and makeup only goes so far." 

"Let me just check up on them and then I'll go home. Deal?"

Butch doesn't seemed convinced, and neither does Cobblepot for that matter, but he finally allows me to go back. 

When I get back to the warehouse, everything seems to be in order... mostly. Some of the thugs still rest on the bottom floor. And some of them are gone. My guess is that either they've become magically healed, or they didn't make it through the day. Which is more troublesome? I cannot say. 

Oswald stares me down from afar as I check on injuries, probably timing my trips. Maybe if I stay at one group too long, a buzzer will go off and he'll move me to the next. 

On the upper levels, I check up on those who went through a procedure yesterday. For the most part, they're turning out alright. There's a minor infection here and there, but nothing too serious. It's nothing I just can't handle tomorrow. 

I finally make my way down the stairs and breathe a sigh of relief. 

"How does it look?" Oswald asks, still donning that ever-serious persona of his. 

"Nothing I can't handle later." I smile, feeling relieved. Sleep is so close, I can almost taste it. 

He cracks a small smile. "That's good to hear. Now get out of my club." 

"Sir, yes sir." I mock salute him and make it through his club without being seen by my co-workers. 

When I arrive home, my eyelids weigh so much. I can't keep them open for five seconds more. It's no use showering or changing clothes. I pass out on the couch. And I sleep like a dead man. 


	9. Secrets

"You have to tell me what's going on, Sera."

I blink awake. How long have I been out? What's even going on? "Huh?"

Jim and I are face to face. He's sitting on the coffee table, staring straight into my sleepy eyes.

"Jeez, Jim!" I nearly hit him in the face for startling me. "What are you talking about?"

I can only imagine how much of a trainwreck I look like. There's no doubt that my hair looks like a bird's nest. My shirt is untucked and there's a strange wet substance dripping down my cheek. Whether it's a tear or drool, I've yet to figure it out.

He rubs his forehead in frustration and sets a mug of coffee on a coaster. "This is for you."

"You're never nice to me," I take the hot mug in my hands and blow on it. " _What_  is going on?"

"You've been asleep for twelve hours." He says.

Ever since I was young, I've had a natural clock. Most teens my age were able to sleep for twelve and thirteen hours at a time. I was the one who was up by eight every morning, without fail.

"Have I?" I laugh nervously. "Man, work has just been getting to me recently."

Jim scoffs, not taking to my story. "You're not fooling anyone, Sera. Tell me what's really going on. I can see it on your face."

"Everything is fine, Jim." I snap. Sweat collects on my brow. Each pore almost feels like it's about to overflow, just like my emotions. Any second now, I'm going to spill my guts to him, I can feel it. Even after the long hours of sleep I've had, I can still feel my emotions on edge. My cup is full.

After the eventful night at Oswald's, I should've prepared myself for this.

"Honestly, Jim?" Sighing, I set down the coffee. Will I tell him? Will I lie, and keep lying?

"Before you answer," he says, sitting up straighter. "I've talked with Harvey and Rachel... and Lee."

There's no way he doesn't know, now! Harvey probably told him the truth after he talked to Rachel! But Rachel doesn't know anything! How could she possibly suspect anything of me? And what the heck does Lee know? Why does she even count in this? "What'd they say?"

"Rachel just said you were looking exhausted as you came into work each day. Harvey told me that you invited him to lunch to vent about stuff."

"Yeah, and?" All I want to know about is Harvey. What did Harvey say? Did he spill it? Did he keep my secret, like he said he would?

"He just said that he thinks you're involved with someone in a gang, like a boyfriend."

Oh my God. I nearly cry (or laugh) of relief. I can recover from this. Jim does not have to know right now. My secret is still kept. Thank you, Harvey Bullock! You brilliant little life-saver!

"What did Lee say?"

"She thinks you're hiding something."

I almost laugh at how accurate she estimates me. "Oh?"

"Yeah. She explained it to me. I only caught bits and pieces, but I realized that she was right. So, what's going on?"

As I look into Jim's eyes, I can't help but cry. Except, I don't cry for the reason he's thinking. I cry because I feel so horrible for lying to him. It's eating away at me. Why can't he just let me be? He's so good at doing it any other time! What if I spill it to him now? Maybe I won't be in as much trouble as I will be if I keep it secret.

"Yeah, yeah. I had a boyfriend in the mob." I cry, holding my knees up to my chest. Each single lie that comes from my mouth makes my shoulders shake harder.

Jim acts like he has no clue what to do. No, scratch that. It's not an act. It's very obviously his natural reaction. "W-What? Who?"

"It doesn't matter! He's gone now!"

"What family was he in?"

"Falcone's," I can barely get the words out. My eyes glaze over with tears, and I can't see him through the moisture anymore. He's faded and blurry, like a shattering dream. There's one thing I know for sure, Jim can never, ever find out about my involvement. It will kill me. "He's dead. And that happened just after my patient died."

My brother wraps his muscular arms around my frame and lulls me to silence. "I don't know who he was or what you've done, Sera. But I will find out the truth, one way or another."

Oh my God. He doesn't believe me. Even as I'm sitting here, sobbing, he doesn't pity me. His heart is breaking because I continually lie to him. Who was I to even think I could ever lie to him? I can only imagine that he's holding me here because of the heartache he's about to bring upon himself... and I. 

"Jim," I say, still very teary. I pull myself away from his embrace. "Don't go looking in this to try and save me."

He gives me a very grave, very dark look. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not broken. I'm not in danger," I sniffle. So far, I'm  _not_  in danger, as long as Jim keeps his nose out of my business. James is the only threat I have to worry about. "I don't need you to run in and save the day."

He shakes his head. I expect for him to yell at me. I mentally prepare myself for it. Instead, he just stands. "I'm going to find out the truth. Look Sera, I will help you in any way I can. If you're involved with the mob, I can help you get out-"

"No, you can't. Stay out of my business and don't get yourself killed."

"That's not possible," he slams the door shut behind him.

I'm left alone in a bitter, dark silence. A silence that begs for me to scream into it, just to end the dark reign of it's very existence. It weeps for the echoes of the noise I just delivered. It aches down to my very core.

***

"And so he said that?" Butch asks before he pushes back the plastic.

I don't know why I go back to the very place that brings me such torment. Like Oswald said, it can be addictive. I'm afraid it's a habit I won't be able to break, soon. Not with the way Falcone's pushing for more territory, these days.

After Jim left, I forced myself to come and do something productive. There's no use in sulking around at home. 

"Yeah," I say, stepping through the entrance to the warehouse. "I don't know if you have to tell Oswald about it, but I'd like for it to stay between us."

"You've got it. I don't think Jim Gordon is a big threat to someone like Falcone. If it was just Penguin alone, sure. I'd have to tell him then, but I think you're alright."

"Thanks," I mumble, slapping on a pair of gloves. "Don't you have other things to be doing? Like guarding Cobblepot?"

He shrugs. "He's visiting his mother today."

"What's she like?" I've heard of her before, but never bothered to ask.

"Eh, she's alright. She's an old woman, now. I think she's from some European country."

"Germany?" I ask, investigating a wound to some thug's side. "Cobblepot is a very German-sounding name... right?"

"To be honest, I don't really know." He folds his arms across his chest and props himself up on a stretcher. "From what I've heard, the old woman is crazy."

"Is she?" I laugh, taping some gauze over the wound. Talking to Butch is clearing my mind. It's helping me to relax. He has this persona and ambiance about him that just soothes my worries. "It's weird to think that he actually cares for someone."

"Oh, he's more vulnerable than he likes to think. Obviously, he reacts to it differently than most people, but he still has a heart."

"How is that even possible?" As I jump on a gurney to get pushed to the next patient, a smirk crosses my lips. I can't ever imagine him wrapped up with some girl on a Friday night, sitting beside a fireplace.

It's plain to see that he has no time for romance. A man like him can't afford to fall in love. He treasures fame and fortune so much that everything else is put on the back burner. But perhaps, if he were to open himself up to one person in the world– one person who he knew better than anyone. Perhaps then he could finally fall in love.

He watches me stitch up a hand, cringing every once and awhile. "Well, he can't be invincible. He tries to make himself look like it. It doesn't always work."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," I finish up the hand and send the thug upstairs.

"Just watch him," Butch says, all-knowingly. "Next time you're around him, you'll be able to tell."

"Okay, whatever."

Everyone downstairs is taken care of, at last. It's been a three-day project, but I finally get to pull myself away from Oswald's until Falcone orders me to return and once again fix his killers. I feel my entire existence is a contradiction. I am the queen who is trapped between life and death.

"I'm serious," Butch reminds me after walking me out into the club. "Just watch him."

"Fine! I will! I will!" I laugh, sitting at the bar.

The sun fades under the jagged Gotham buildings and the night takes it's long reign once more. Perhaps I should return home, but at the moment home sounds vile and disgusting. If I return there, I'm sure that Jim will be waiting. I can feel it. Home is a repulsing word. I'd much rather stay in the warehouse than go home.

And so I sit at the bar. I don't drink; I don't think. I just sit. Behind the bar is a mirror, making it look like they have more drinks. Anyways, I stare at that. Not necessarily at my own reflection, but just into nothing.

"I figured I'd find you here," a thick, nearly cowboy like voice comes over my ears.

"Hello, Harvey. Care to join me for a drink?"

"Do I ever?" He smirks. "I can't believe that's even a question, sister."

I sigh, leaning on my hands. "What're you up to?"

"Nothin' much. Jim told me about the little cry-fest this morning."

"Yeah, and?"

"And, I think you're too nice for this kind of thing, Sera." He downs his shot, quickly. It's smooth, with no sign of the burning alcohol. "I thought you could make it. From what's he told me, you're going to get yourself and Jim killed."

I'm about to answer when another person pulls up on my other side.

"Well hello, you two!" Oswald grins. "What a coincidence!"

I rub my forehead in annoyance. "Hello, Oswald."

Harvey rolls his eyes but gives him a curt nod. "Penguin."

"I'm so glad you could join us, Harvey! What were you two talking about? If you don't mind the intrusion, of course."

"Oh, we do." Harvey clarifies. Another drink down.

"We were just talking about how I'm not cut out for the job," I confess, turning my emotionless stare towards him. "Jim's becoming suspicious."

"Ah," Oswald nods, like he understands the situation. He too, rests his chin on his hand, like we're just the best of friends. "That must be why you're all gloom and doom."

I roll my eyes as Harvey mocks him.

"Seriously, Penguin? I don't think you get any say in this."

He sighs. "There's where you're wrong, Detective."

"Yeah, Oswald. What's it like?" I ask. Venom drips through my tongue. "When your mother gets suspicious, how do you cope?"

"Don't expect him to give you an actual answ–"

"I lie to her," he spills. Oswald's crystal eyes meet mine in a moment of true, silent honesty. "I tell her lie after lie after lie."

"What–" Bullock is very clearly shocked. He downs two more shots in less than a minute.

I avert my eyes to the bar. "What's it like? Do you cry? Does she cry?"

Cobblepot's smirk returns, even though this time, it's bittersweet; sad even. Butch's eyes meet mine from across the room. This is  _exactly_  what he's talking about. The Penguin does have a heart. For just this moment, I can look at him like a normal person.

"Oh yes, Sera. She cries and weeps and moans." And the bare honesty is lost. "That's where the Gotham river comes from, y'know."

Crossing my arms, I resist the urge to (for the third time, I believe) punch him in the nose. He's so unbearably annoying, right now. "Remind me why I let you into this conversation?"

He sighs, rolling his eyes. He treasures his honesty like it's a gift. "Well, I can't have you moping around my bar all night long. It's bad for the clientele."

"Screw off, Penguin," Harvey says, throwing some cash onto the wood. "Let's get out of here, Sera."

"Wait, wait, wait." Oswald stops us. "I just want you both to know that I am honestly concerned about Sera's well-being here."

"Give me a reason I don't just punch you in the nose, right now." Harvey bucks up at his attitude.

"Because," Oswald laughs. "One little rumor to Jim and Falcone will have her throat."

I can only imagine that both of our faces chisel away into cold, hard glares.

His laugh only picks up. He nearly doubles over. "You should see the look on your faces, right now. Anyways," Cobblepot tries to pull himself together. "The only reason I'm not going to run and tell Falcone about this little endeavor is that Sera's going to do it anyways!"

"What do you mean?" I hiss.

"Come on, Sera Gordon. You're a living heart." His countenance falls into the most serious one he can muster. "And unless you sit back down at that bar and listen, I give you... eh... maybe two weeks? Then you'll go running to Falcone, tears in your eyes. 'Oh please let me out! Please, Mr. Falcone!'."

Harvey and I exchange glances before he sends me back to the stools. "I'll see you later, then."

"Of course. We'll catch up this week."

Penguin "respectfully" waits until Bullock is out of the bar before sitting beside me. "You get worked up so easily," he comments with a roll of his eyes. "Are you ready to listen, Miss Gordon?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Good, because I'm only going to say this once," His voice lowers to a hush. It still keeps it's harsh crispness, but it's quiet. "Jim is going to find out about you, Sera."

I try to answer, but he shuts me up. "Shut up and listen." 

I do as he says.

"I'm trying to tell you this now so your precious little world doesn't come crashing down on you unexpectedly. Someone is going to spill to your brother and he will ask you about it. You can either take that in stride, or lie to him about it... again."

"How do you–"

He gives me a glare before clearing his throat and continuing. "Or, you can get the hell out of dodge and leave Gotham."

"What's your point?"

"I'm telling you to own up to it."

"Why?"

"If the remaining Gordon's are found dead at Falcone's hand, it's bad news for him. He won't want to do it, but he'll have no choice if your brother goes poking around. Jim will do anything to make it right. If you tell him, he won't be able to attack Falcone. He'll realize what Jim is trying to do and come after you. There's no way Jim will risk that."

It dawns on me that he must not remember my mother. I mentioned her once before. Perhaps it's that, or he won't bring her up for my sake.

"But-"

His persona returns with his smirk. "I just can't keep a secret from you, Sera. I think my input is very crucial." Oswald nods, all sentimental like. "You should go tell him, like  _now_."

Before I can even react, Cobblepot waddles off to greet some new-comers. For the second time this week, I'm left alone and speechless.


	10. Into the Dark

After Oswald leaves me to my own devices, I run out of his club to see if Harvey just happened to stick around.

"Sera! You look like you're in a rush!" 

No, that's not Harvey.

"Oh... Hello, Don Falcone," I greet him when I see that Bullock is long gone. "I was, actually. Harvey was supposed to meet me here. It seems I've been stood up." If he thinks Harvey knows anything about the mob this situation can turn very dark, very quickly.

He pulls his coat further around his frame. The fatherly grin appears on his face. Instead of the smile being comforting, it sends a chill down my spine. I need to get to Jim now. Every second that I wait to tell him, we dive into a darker situation. "Ah," he nods. "I never trust the police to be punctual. They're very forgetful about these kind of things. Come in, my dear."

I don't have the guts to tell him that I've just spent all day at Oswald's. "S-Sure." I say.

He holds the door open for me. As I step into the ambiance of the club, Cobblepot narrows his eyes at me. If I could read his mind, I'm sure there would be a few vile words he has for my presence.

Falcone steps in behind me. I can visibly see that Oswald puts it together. His hostile manner fades into a cheerful one.

"Don Falcone. Dr. Gordon!" He welcomes us to sit. "Can I get you two anything?"

I shake my head while Carmine orders himself some fancy wine.

"Please join us, Penguin."

Oswald starts to refuse, claiming that he doesn't want to intrude on whatever littler meeting we're having.

"Oh, come on. We won't take up too much of your time. Sera, do you have any objections?"

"None, Mr. Falcone."

Oswald shuffles in beside me. We're facing the big bad in a booth. Before we begin the meeting, the owner of the club shoots me an icy glance. I smile in return and face my boss.

"So, Sera. How is the clinic running?"

"It's good," I inform, leaning my elbows on the table. "I expect to see everyone out and working again within the next few days."

"Good, good. I was just about to compliment how quickly you're getting them in and out of the clinic. I'm impressed. Aren't you, Penguin?"

He nods. "Yes, Don Falcone. We're seeing more family presence than we have in months. It's astonishing, really."

"That's very good to hear. You know, I think I'm noticing a pattern here." Carmine takes a sip of his drink.

"And what is that?" I inquire, glancing at Cobblepot.

"You two are making a very good team."

"O-Oh?" Oswald says, sounding confused.

I can't say that I'm not the same way. "He and I hardly work together."

Falcone chuckles, setting down his glass. "No, perhaps not. But, you have each other's backs, so to speak. It's something that is  _vital_  for a family to function."

I still don't see. Oswald has my back, very rarely. What've I done for him in return? The blanket fact is that I haven't done anything for him.

Oswald stares behind our boss, like he's lost in the depths of his thoughts.

Another drink is taken. "I'm not saying this to confuse you both. It's just a statement," a smirk plants itself upon his lips. "Don't take it too hard to heart."

Cobblepot and I exchange glances. "Why are you telling us this?" He asks exactly what I'm thinking.

"Because I want you to be aware of it. It won't be too long before Maroni tries to tug on the–"

My phone buzzes loudly against the table. "It's the living facility. Do you mind if I get it?"

Oswald is dumbfounded that I even asked if I could answer the phone.

"Of course, my dear. Take your time." Falcone nods, smiling at me gently. He understands my mother's condition.

"Yes, hello?" I walk out of the club and put the phone to my ear.

A calm voice comes over the speaker. "Is this Sera Gordon?"

"Yes it is. Is everything okay?"

"Your mother fell down a flight of stairs this morning. She stayed there until your brother found her. She'd been on the ground for almost eighteen hours. We're taking her to the hospital. Can you meet us there?"

"I can get there," I say. "Is my brother at the hospital already?"

"Yes. He followed the ambulance."

"Okay. I'll be there, shortly."

The phone hangs up and I walk back inside. I can hardly find the words to tell Falcone and Oswald what's going on.

"Is everything okay?" Falcone asks.

"No," I shake my head. I can feel my brows knit together in concern. "My mother is in the hospital. She fell down the stairs this morning. Jim just now found her." I say it all, breathlessly.

"Oh my."

"Go to your mother," Carmine instructs. "I'm just going to finish up some business here. You're not needed for this part."

"Thank you, Don Falcone." I say. "We'll talk later, Oswald."

***

"Jim!" I run up to my brother and hug him, tightly. "How is she?"

"She's sleeping right now," he says, plopping back down in the uncomfortable hospital chair. "It doesn't look good, Sera."

"No?" I sit beside him. "What does she look like?"

"Bruises everywhere. She was out, cold when I found her."

"Oh." Perhaps I didn't want to know. "Jim, listen. I have something I need to tell you."

"What's that?" He slips off his jacket and leans back in his seat. Jim looks expectant, like he's prepared to shut me down if I even think about lying to him again. But before I can spill it all to him, Rachel walks up.

"I'm very sorry about all of this, Sera." The brunette averts her eyes to the space behind me. "We'll do the best we can."

"Thank you."

She gives me a sad, soft smile and disappears around the corner.

"What were you saying?"

Is this really the best time to spill it all to him? Do I even dare? Will he yell? Will he cut all ties with me, period? Will he accept it?

"Look, Jim. After dad's funeral Falcone came to me and told me that one day when mom got old, he would pay to put her in a nursing home."

"And?"

"Just listen," I snap. "This isn't easy for me."

He does as I ask.

"Unknowing of who he was, I offered some sort of trade for helping mom."

He gives me the same look Harvey did, but he remains quiet.

"He suggested that I help him patch up his men. I only thought I was helping him stitch up some bodyguards. When I got to the warehouse, I realized what I did. But I also knew I couldn't get out of it, anymore. Anyways, the head doctor of the family just died a few days ago. Falcone offered me the job."

He runs his hands down his face. "And you took it?"

"Yeah... I thought that if I could build up enough income, I wouldn't have to rely on Falcone anymore. I just can't do it by myself any longer. There's no way I can keep this up."

I'm exhausted. My emotions are frayed; my brain is foggy. I'm tired of dancing through the double-life tango. My feet  _need_  to rest. 

James sighs, heavily. For a moment, there is a complete, blissful silence between us. The relief from just telling him comes over my heart, like a thousand pounds have been lifted.

"Why didn't you tell me all of this to begin with, Sera?" He sounds extremely disappointed, but perhaps proud that I owned up to it. "I could arrest you."

"I know." I say, bringing my knees to my chest.

"But you know I won't do that... So what are you going to choose?"

"What do you mean?" My eyes widen at my brother. He doesn't stand up; he doesn't leave... He just accepts it and moves on.

"You can't keep being a nurse for the hospital and a doctor for Falcone. You need to–"

"Who says I can't?"

He's shocked at what I'm even suggesting "You're obviously tired from playing this game. You need to choose."

"I can't, Jim!" I stand, flailing my hands. "I can't just run up to Falcone and tell him that I quit. That's suicide-" I pace around, nervously.

"You can't keep playing double-life either."

"I can request more time off at the hospital."

"You're going to get yourself fired."

"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Falcone's paying me way more than I make at the hospital, anyways." I sigh. "What do you think I'm supposed to do?"

He echoes my exhale and folds his arms. "I don't know. I don't know, Sera. I'm not your dad. I can't tell you what to do."

As much as I want to roll my eyes and think up some witty comeback, I can't. He's right. He's always been right about everything. I should've told him. I should've gotten out while I could.

Now, I'm trapped.

I bury my head into my hands and let the darkness consume me. For one bittersweet moment, I can forget about everything my life has become. The ever-present guilt and shame does not exist. I let it cover me like a blanket. My knees are pulled up to my chest and I can abscond into the night forever.

"Sera," Jim nudges me. The light is once again peeking through the cracks of my hand. "We can go in now."

I follow his lead to mom's room. The smell of rubbing alcohol and latex wafts into our noses. I inhale it, deeply. The familiar smell of the hospital soothes my ever-anxious spirit.

Finally, we get to the room. Mom is lying in the bed. Her hair is in mats and bruises cover her face, arms and chest. Tears roll down my cheeks at the mere sight of her. She looks so old and worn.

I used to have a dark blue blanket that I carried around... everywhere. I was not seen without it. Over the years, as I grew older, the blanket became frayed and damaged. Stains were everywhere, as were the holes. My mother is that blanket.

The head doctor comes in and explains that there were multiple internal wounds. She's broken a leg and arm. On top of that she's had severe head trauma. Apparently, she actually hit her head on multiple stairs and went into a coma. There's no telling when she'll wake up.

As the doctor leaves, we're left in a bitter, cold silence. Jim and I sit in opposite chairs across the room. He rests his head in his hands. I bring my knees up to my chair and stare at the white wall.

"Is this a bad time?" A voice that is not the doctor's, nor Rachel's, nor Harvey's makes itself known.

Jim looks up and scowls. "Yes, Penguin. It is."

I look up at the man standing in the doorway. He has a bouquet of flowers in his hands. "These are for your mother."

"How did you know she was here?" James asks.

Oswald shrugs, "This is Gotham, Jim. There are two hospitals that actually deserve to be in business. This happens to be one of them."

My brother sighs.

I stand to take the flowers.

He hands them to me. At this point, I can't tell if he's being honest or just mocking. "Have they come to a diagnosis?"

"Yeah," I say, laying the bouquet on a table. "She's in a coma. It's not a good situation."

"Oh," he sits in an empty chair on my side of the room. "It looks like Jim's gotten the big schpiel."

Jim narrows his eye at the man. "What's it to you?"

"I actually suggested that she tell you. If you go looking too far into Falcone's family, he'll kill you off."

I sit in the chair beside his. "Please, not right now."

"If not now, when?" Oswald quirks a brow. He folds his arms across his chest and gazes at the two of us.

It's at this very moment, I notice how his eyes have faded. Cobblepot's eyes were once a bright, crystal blue. Now they've lost their brightness. They've switched to a light green-ish color. I wonder if everyone's eyes fade. If so, what do they fade from? From age? From the loss of innocence? From lying? I do not know.

"Get over, Penguin." Jim growls. "Yes, she has told me. Thank you for suggesting that to her." The poison drips from his lips.

"You're welcome."

James snarls. Just by that look, I can tell he's about to pounce on the other.

"Both of you need to calm down." I warn, glaring at both of them.

Jim huffs and sits back down. Oswald scoffs, leaning back.

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" James spits out. There's no doubt he's pissed off at the world. Just like my father, his anger is uncontrolled, like a lion who hasn't eaten. It hunts and seeks out to destroy.

"Like you're so righteous." Oswald pipes in, all to my defense.

"Oh no, we're not going there. Not now."

I narrow my eyes at my brother. He returns my icy glare. The desire to hit him is so overwhelming that I have to tap on my knee to keep from doing so. Why is all of his anger coming out now? Why not an hour ago while we were waiting on mom? "Hey! Watch it."

His jaw clenches as do his hands. He takes a moment to breathe deeply before speaking. "This is unbelievable. Sera, I've been working to shut every gang in Gotham down! And now you're one of them!? What am I supposed to do? Run up to my boss and say _'Hey! Ya know what? I found out that my sister is in the mob! Can we just shut that little project down?_ '?!"

Cobblepot puts in his two cents. "Or you could go with the program, y'know, like every other official."

"Jim won't do that."

"She's right. I won't do that."

"Just a suggestion." He shrugs.

"Can't you just tone down the goal to shut everything down?" I ask. If Jim tones it down for a while, everyone will think he's just gotten threatened enough to stop his crusade.

"Yeah, like that will work." James scoffs.

"Perhaps she's right," Oswald agrees. "If you just 'lay-low' for a little while, people will think you've gotten over your vendetta against the city."

"Right. And we'll be the only three people to ever know the truth."

"It won't work. I don't want to do it," Jim complains and he begins to pace. "I can't just stop all force against the mob. If I do that, people are sure to notice. It's not going to happen!"

"Just don't bring attention to it."

Oswald agrees with a nod of his head.

James brings up another point. "And when have you been on her side?"

"She's the only doctor we have," he quips. "It would be stupid to lose her. Plus, she's improved our numbers."

"Numbers..." James says in disbelief. "Numbers! Are you even hearing this, Sera?! You're helping a gang!"

"I don't like doing it!" I shout over him. My cool is lost completely. "I'm healing killers and thugs and the scum of Gotham, but you know what? It has to happen! Who's going to help them if I don't?! They matter too!"

Perhaps his idea that I would choose a life of normality is lost. By seeing our mother so sick and wounded, maybe it's just all become clear to him. This is real. All of this is real.

"How can you even stand this, Sera? You're helping the people that send innocents to this very hospital! I don't understand how you can choose  _that_ over the life you have!"

"I am not a criminal!"

"Aren't you?!"

"No! I fix people, Jim! I help people!"

"You help murderers!"

"You  _are_  a murderer!"

With that, I storm out of the room. I can hear Jim call out to me.

But I don't listen. Not until I'm clear of the hospital. 


	11. Bruce Wayne and Justification

"That bad, huh?" 

"Yeah." I take a swig of some concoction Harvey whipped up. 

He downs his drink quickly. "I'm sorry it didn't work out the way you wanted, but what you seriously expecting from Jim?" 

"I dunno."

"I think you did. I think that's why you held off on telling him until it was necessary." 

"What, are you a shrink now?"

"I was a bartender, once. So, practically." 

My eyes roll and I take another drink. "I expected your place to be a dump," I say, peering around. "But it's not. It's nice." It's actually  _pretty_  nice. Nicer than ours, which (in Gotham) is saying something. 

He shrugs. "It is what it is. Look, Jim will get over himself. I think you should just give him time to take it all in." 

"I left him with Cobblepot! I can't believe I actually left him with the Penguin." 

"You were mad," he waves it off like it's no big deal. "I'm sure Penguin left as soon as you did. He came just to stir things up. You know how he is." 

I sigh heavily. In two swift gulps, my drink is down. "So?"

"What are you so afraid of?" Harvey asks, pouring us some more. 

Am I afraid? What am I possibly afraid of? Sure I worry about Jim's well-being, but what else? Is there anything?

"That's a very vague question..." 

He sets down the bottle. "It doesn't have to be. I mean, you do the job no one else can or wants to do. You give their lives back. Okay, maybe the means that you do it in aren't the best. Perhaps getting yourself involved in a gang wasn't the best route to go. So what? You give those men a second chance."

"I've never thought about it that way..." 

"Neither has Jim. So what are you afraid of?" 

Jim has no idea of what my thought process is as I'm patching up Falcone's thugs. There's no doubt that the majority of the criminals are there for the money. That's out of the question. But some of them were thrown into this life of crime, just like me. Like Butch. I doubt he started that way, but whatever conditioning he's had changed him. Now I wonder that if he had the choice, would he still be Oswald's lackey? 

"I just feel like if I quit my job at the hospital, I'm losing touch of everything I believe in. If I quit my job, I'm just a bundle of lost potential." 

"Ah, there's the answer. But that isn't the truth, is it?" 

He's right. He's completely right. I've been doing more good in the family than I have working at the hospital. I'm more invested in those lives than I am with my coworkers at GCH. 

"It's not," I agree, having an epiphany. "I'm doing so much more with Falcone's clan. I can do so much more. I can change it for  _good_."

"There you go." He winks and downs his drink. 

I heave, "why does any of this matter, anyways?" 

"Because now that you know it, Jim can realize it. Oh, and before you go runnin' to him and telling him that I think you should quit your job, know that none of this is my idea." 

"You don't?" A dark brow arches. "You just given me the pep-talk of the century." 

"Yeah. I think it'll be good for  _you_. I'm a cop, remember? Crime and gangs are not in my interest. I do think there's another way around it. I just don't know if we'll be able to see it soon." 

"Oh... You made it look like you were on my side." 

"I am on your side. It's just from a distance." 

A knock comes at his door. Harvey finishes off his drink and goes to answer it. 

"Oh, Jimmy boy!" He pats my brother on the back. "Your sister and I were just having a drink. Wanna join?" 

"Sure," he says grimly. "I figured she'd be here. That's why I came, actually." 

"I thought you were just here for my dashing good looks." He jokes. 

Jim chuckles and sits on a chair by mine. He stares at the marble counter tops of Harvey's kitchen. "I'm sorry... for what I said back there." 

"Me too." I say, too quickly. 

At the same exact time, we forgive.

"It's okay." 

That's just how we are. Every time we'd fight when we were young, we would be apologizing in less than a day. We couldn't go to sleep without meeting in the hallway and hugging it out. We'd meet in the very middle. I'd start to cry and Jim would say he's sorry. And that would be the end of it. 

"Yeah," he says, now looking at me. "Look, Sera, I think–"

"The bottom line is," I interrupt. "I'm doing more good things in the gang than I could ever do at the hospital. I can change it. While you go after it head on, I can already be altering it from the inside." 

"And then when it all comes crashing down? Then what, Sera? You'll be caught in the fire." 

"I think she can take the heat." Harvey pipes in, pouring himself more liquid. 

James scoffs. "Do you even understand what you're saying, right now?" 

"Yep. I'm on her side, but from afar. I think a team-up could really help your crusade, Jim. Even though I think your little grudge is stupid, anyways." 

"We've discussed it." His blue eyes narrow. 

"What do you say, Jim?" I ask. If there really is a chance at healing, this will be the start of it. 

"You do understand that if they notice you're spilling secrets to me they'll kill you, right?"

"That's why I won't be spilling _too_ many secrets. My area of change will be apparent in the repercussions of the collapsing family." 

"I don't know if I trust this idea, yet. I think it's too risky." 

"What about it is risky, Jim?!" Harvey argues, flailing his arms. "You'll have a constant insider to the Falcone family! As long as your sister does her job, she's safe with them. Falcone and Penguin have already promised to protect her. She's in the safest part of Gotham aside from the GCPD building." 

My older brother takes a drink from my glass. "I'm not worried just for her, anymore. What if I slip up? There are two sides of this. What if  you or I mention something about her? The secret will be out. And then you will be in danger. What if we start to mess up on this one?" 

"I'll be there to help you," his friend offers. "That's what partners do, right?" 

James nods, not quite convinced yet.

"I trust you, Jim," I say. "With my life. You're my brother." 

His lips purse into a line. "You just had to pull that card, didn't you?" 

It's the truth. "I'm not trying to 'pull a card'. I'm being serious." 

"Fine, I'll do it. But let it go on the record that I don't want to do it." 

We rejoice his decision with another round of drinks. Over time, James will learn how vital this little tag-team can be. With a Gordon on each side of the most powerful family in Gotham, there will be nothing that can stop us. Justice will come. 

***

"Get dressed. There's someone I want you to meet." 

In my groggy state, I groan and pull my pillow over my eyes. He rips it out of my grasp. 

"Be gentle." I plead. But by the time I'm able to get the words out, James pushes back the black curtains to my windows. Bright sunlight bleeds through. "Agh–"

"I said get up," He repeats. "Be downstairs in ten minutes." 

"Sure," I mumble, finally pulling myself up. After throwing on some clothes, I run down the stairs. "Sir, yes sir! Reporting for duty, sir!" I stand at attention. 

James rolls his eyes. "Can you keep it down? I have a headache." 

"Not me," I smirk. "It seems the hangover passed me." 

"Lucky," he groans. "Let's go." 

On the way to wherever we're going, I ask countless questions about our destination. Does it have something to do with our team-up? Is it celebratory? Are we going to dad's grave? The hospital? 

"Hey, Jim. I don't know where we're going, but if it's not the hospital, will you drop me off afterwards?" 

"Why?" 

"I think one of us should stay with mom. With both of us being in the positions that we're in, I don't think it's safe for her to be alone." 

"Yeah." He mutters, rubbing his forehead. 

We take a few more turns and twists and finally arrive at to large gates. 

"Why are we here?" I ask as the Wayne manor gates fly open. 

Jim pulls into the driveway and parks. "I told you. I have someone I want you to meet."

I go along with him. Before we can even knock on the door, a man appears. 

"I heard the gate buzzer," he says in a very odd accent. "Welcome to Wayne Manor. Good to see you again, Jim." 

"You too, Alfred." He shakes the man's hand and steps inside. I can only assume that this Alfred character is a butler. I could be wrong.

"And who are you, miss?" He reaches to shake my hand.

I return the gesture. "I'm Sera. Jim's younger sister." 

"Pleasure to meet you, Sera. I'm Alfred Pennyworth. Butler to the Waynes." 

"Oh yeah? Do you like it?" I ask, walking inside the manor. It's way bigger and grander than it appears to be from the outside. Looking onto the manor, it's huge alright. But the inside just seems to expand on forever and ever. How does anyone stay sane? Are they sure the Waynes were murdered? Or are they just lost somewhere in their house?

He shrugs. "Enough, yeah. It's grown on me." 

Jim calls from the den, I believe. "Sera, the person I want you to meet is in here." 

"Ah, yes." Alfred and I follow Jim's voice to a very nice parlor area. There's a fireplace, a few nice artifacts and couches. 

Sitting on one of those couches is my brother. Beside him is a young boy. He can't be any older than fourteen. 

"Master Bruce, this is Sera." 

The boy stands and shakes my hand. "Hi, I'm Bruce Wayne." 

"Sera Gordon. I'm Jim's–"

"Younger sister. Yes, I know. He's told me a lot about you." The boy's smile is nearly invisible. There's such a serious tone to him– not just in his voice. I can't exactly put my finger on it. There's just a dark, grave persona about him. He's not like other kids. That much is plain to see. 

Maybe after watching my parents be murdered, I wouldn't be a whole bundle of joy, either. 

"Has he?" I laugh, glancing at Jim. He gives me a bit of an apologetic smirk. "Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Bruce. "

He nods and sits beside James again. Alfred and I take the other couch. Bruce clings to my brother. It's not a physical attachment, but he's connected to him. There's a mutual understanding and concern for the other. It's exactly what Jim needs. 

"Can I get you both anything?" Alfred asks. 

We shake our heads. "No. We're good." 

"Thanks, though." 

"So what do you do for a living, Sera?" Bruce inquires.

I notice how there are different papers and files strung out all along the coffee table and floor. He's been searching for something. 

"Oh, I'm a nurse."

"Where?" 

What do I even say? How can I tell this kid that I work for the gang?! And very possibly, the people who killed his parents?!

"At um–" 

"It's okay. You can tell him the truth." Jim promises. 

"Seriously Jim? Fine. I'm the head doctor in the Falcone family–"

"What is she doing here, then?" Alfred explodes. "Why did you let her in here? I'm afraid I'm going to ask you to leave, miss. It was nice meeting you but–"

"Alfred!" Bruce snaps. "She's Jim's sister. I trust her." 

I shake my head, sitting once more. "You shouldn't trust everyone you meet, Bruce." 

"Oh, I don't," he clarifies. "But I know that if you're anything like your brother, you're trustworthy."

He and I exchange glances before I address Bruce. "My brother is pretty great, isn't he?" 

"He is. So what exactly  _do_  you do?"

"I provide any and all medical services to Falcone's family." 

"Hmmm," Bruce thinks. While he does so, Alfred starts to calm down, but not before threatening me. 

"If you ever think about putting him in danger, there will not be one place on this Earth that I can't find you. Am I clear, miss?" 

"Crystal." I nod. 

Jim shoots Alfred a sideways glance before turning to Bruce. 

"So you have an insight to the gang?" 

"You could say that, yes." 

"And you inform Jim on what the mob's doing?" 

"Yeah. Sometimes. If I spill too many secrets at once, I'll be in trouble," I wink. I think he understands what he means by 'trouble'. "My main focus is to incorporate change on the inside."

"Maybe you're doing more good there than in the outside." 

"I hope so. I want to see Gotham's scum brought to justice." It suddenly becomes clear why Jim wanted me to meet this child. "I'm on the inside, yes. But I am not on their side. I want that to be clear. I have no intention in becoming a gang member."

"Have you killed anyone? For the mob, I mean." 

"No. I don't believe that death is an option. Falcone is very well aware of that." 

"Well that's all great and dandy," Alfred interjects. "But what happens when the rubber meets the road?" 

"I'll be able to keep my ear out."

Jim and Alfred get it. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I'll listen in for any information about your parents' killer. I heard that Mario Pepper was framed."

The idea clicks. "Would you do that?" 

"Of course. It's the least I can do." 

Bruce's countenance brightens up. "How can I thank you?" 

My job for this child has suddenly become clear. This is why Jim brought me. This is it. "You can thank me by not forgetting about the light. Allow yourself to have some joy, Bruce." 

His smile remains. "I'll try." 

"Do you realize how risky this will be?" Alfred asks, quietly. 

Jim and I walk out of the door. 

"Yeah," I say, sweeping a strand of stray hair out of my face. "I do." 

"I wish you the best of luck, then." 

"We'll be in touch." Jim says and shuts the door behind us. 

***

The hospital's normal sounds fill my ears as the elevator door opens. Nurses and doctors buzz around, clipboards in hand. They bustle about to different rooms, no doubt checking on patients. How can I possibly leave this place? 

How can I not? I've already made my promises. 

"Sera! Hi. How are you?" 

I know that if I even give myself a second of formalities, I'll feel guilty and flake out. "Rachel, I'm quitting." 

Her cheerfulness falls. "Why? If you need time off for your mother, we can certainly arrange it." 

"I just need some time to get my head right. I appreciate the offer, but I need to be on my own." 

"I'm sorry to see you go. You can collect your things at any time. We'll need to get a few things from you, of course." 

"Yeah. I had Jim run me by the house and get it," I place my badge and other necessary items in her palm.  "I'm sorry it had to end so quickly like this." 

"No, I understand completely. I'm actually taking a little sabbatical to get my own head in the right place." 

"That's good to hear. I hope it works out." 

"Me too," she chuckles softly. "Keep in touch." 

"I will. Thank you." 

She nods softly. Her smile has always been the best part about her. I'm glad I get to see it one last time. 

When I get to my mother's room, I'm finally able to breathe deeply. The familiar scent of mom floods over it; it's a smell of vanilla and old books. Sighing, I take a seat and rest my eyes. 

I can't tell how much time passes before I finally look up. When I do, I notice Oswald's flowers. Except, they're not in the bouquet they were originally in. They're in a clear, glass vase. The fertilizer packet has been poured into the water and they've been spread out into a decent arrangement. 

"Who did this, mom?" I ask to the woman in comatose. "Who in Gotham is that thoughtful?" 

"The man did it just after you left," a nurse pokes her head in. "Not your brother. I mean the other guy." 

Her unexpected voice makes me jump. "Yeah, you met him at the get-together." 

"Oh. You're right!" 

"Course I am," I answer. Her ignorance to the whole situation gets on my nerves. I can't exactly explain why. It just gets under my skin. "How does she look?" 

"Still no significant changes. We'll inform you as soon as we get some. You should go home and get some rest." 

"Should I? How can I know she's even safe here?" I chuckle, slipping my hands into my pocket. "Sure. No, you're right. I'll catch you later."

"We updated our security last night. I know she'll be out of harm's way. Your contact information is on file. You will be the first to know when something happens to your mother." 

"Thanks." 

***

"I was wondering when, _if_ you'd ever return." Oswald greets when I step into his club. 

I smirk at the sight of Butch and Cobblepot. "Well, boys. I'm here to stay." 


	12. Victorious

"What do you mean?"

"I've quit my job at the hospital."

"Why?" Butch asks, leaning against a wall.

"I couldn't keep doing both things. Jim suggested I choose one or the other."

"But weren't you at the hospital to fulfill your need to do good?" Oswald points out, wiping down the bar.

"Yeah, it was," I confess. "But I realized that I'm doing more good here than I am at the hospital."

Butch looks slightly confused, as does Oswald.

I sigh. "I'm not going to explain it right now."

Oswald rolls his eyes. "Whatever. If it works for you then-"

"Ah, Sera! I've been looking for you," Carmine steps into the club. He brushes snow off his hat and hangs it on a coat rack. "I stopped by the hospital, but you weren't there. I assumed you came here."

"You must've barely missed me, then. I actually just came from the hospital," I say, turning to face the big bad. "Why were you looking for me?"

"There's been a little skirmish. I'm delivering a few of my men to you, now. I didn't want you to walk back and be blindsided."

"Oh, well thank you." I smile softly. His grin still makes me feel uneasy. All of this does. The crimes, the gangs, the men- it all sends my stomach into knots.

Cobblepot just has to pipe in. "Has she told you about her surprise yet, Don Falcone?"

My boss shakes his head. "No, I haven't. Sera, what's the surprise?"

"Oh," I begin, shooting Oswald a sideways glance. "Well, I quit my job at the hospital to be full-time here. It was just getting too crazy."

"That is a surprise!" He chuckles. "I'm glad you've chosen the family, though. I'm assuming Jim knows?"

"Yes," I nod. "I told him today."

"And was he supportive?"

"Well... no. Not really. But he loves me, so he's willing to move past it." When I say that last sentence, almost everyone in my vicinity gives me a look. I can't exactly explain what each of their faces look like. It's just a moment of surrealism. "He's not happy with it. Don't get me wrong. He's really pissed off," I add, quickly. "I guess he's just forgiven me. Anyways, I'm here to stay."

Carmine laughs it off and my breath returns.

Did they not believe me? Or were they just so taken aback about the strength of the relationship I have with Jim? Either way, it freaks me out.

"Well that's very good news!" He congratulates. Like a father watching his daughter walk across the kindergarten graduation stage, he gets an applause going.

I don't handle attention very well. It makes me feel awkward. In school, I was a stage hand. I never actually performed... on stage... in front of people. So as the clapping ensues, I bundle myself up further into a shell. My cheeks turn bright,  _bright_ pink.

"I know I speak on behalf of every single member of the family when I say that we're glad you've chosen this road."

"Indeed, Don Falcone." Oswald agrees as the clapping dies down.

"I agree." Butch smirks.

Carmine pats me on the back and the group disperses. Butch and Oswald open up the club, while Falcone (and his five bodyguards) follows me into the warehouse.

"A  _little_  skirmish?" I eye Falcone once we step through the plastic. The warehouse is once again full of men and women.

He shrugs. "It is what it is. I trust you can handle this?"

I nod, stepping up on the dresser. Immediately, all eyes in the warehouse are on me. "Okay, guys. Just like last time. Those with minor or no injuries head upstairs. Grab trash cans and settle down. Those who are seriously hurt, stay on the lower ground and make yourselves comfortable. I'll get around to all of you."

I can feel the heat of Carmine's eyes as I hop off the dresser. The men and women that are able to move do so. The pounding sound of feet and trash cans scraping against the floor fill my ears. "I'm glad you have a system down here."

"Things weren't getting done quickly enough," I say. "I just thought it needed some order."

"You're exactly right," his smile remains. "Well, I'll be off. I certainly don't want to keep you from your work."

"It's not a problem," I say as I slip on gloves. "You're welcome to stay."

He winks. "No thank you. There's a reason I'm not the doctor, Sera."

I chuckle as he disappears behind the plastic sheet of the warehouse. He's no doubt off to talk to Oswald and Butch about how the club's going. From what I've heard, it's actually running very well and quite smoothly.

"Alright, what've we got?" I walk around to the stretchers.

A girl no more than eighteen lays on the bed. Her blood stains the once blue sheets. A hand covers up the wound on the left side of her chest.

"Excuse me... Can I take a look at it?"

She nods, weakly.

Even before I look at the wound, I can tell she's lost a lot of blood. Well, obviously. Most of it's on the bed, but her normally dark complexion is pale. Her figure is frail, already. This one will need blood and pain medication.

The girl pulls her hand away and a bullet wound presents itself to me. Like a gift I'm waiting to unravel, it hides underneath her shirt.

"Can you tell me what happened? Roll on your side, please."

She does as she's asked. "A few of Maroni's started shooting. We were caught unaware."

"Did you give them hell?"

She smirks. "I think I got one guy."

"Good," I reply. "I'll be right back." I spring into action after seeing the exit wound.

"Whoa hey!" Butch runs into the warehouse after seeing my haste. "Where's the fire?"

"There's this girl that I'm going to save, Butch."

"How bad is it?" He asks as I gather up supplies.

I shrug, piling all of the equipment in my arms. "It doesn't look good."

"Then why don't you just let her go?"

"She can't be any older than eighteen," I snap. "I can't let this one die."

He shakes his head, but let's me get to work. Butch stands at the back of the warehouse. I don't have time to think about his constant stare. Not now.

I can't let this girl die.

After the blood, fluid and pain medication kicks in through the IV, I can better examine the wound. By all means, she should probably be put under for this kind of examination. I have to dig into the wound with a pair of tweezers to see if there's any metal left inside. Falcone's warehouse doesn't provide x-ray machines. Hopefully the pain or the medication will just knock her out.

When I finish examining the wound, I notice that there's nothing left for me to do. I can't mend the rip torn through her body. I don't have the equipment to fix the internal wounds she has!

"What's your name?" I ask her from behind.

"Kara," she says. "My name is Kara." Her voice is shaky and soft when she answers.

"Alright, well, I'm going to stitch you up and you'll be good to go."

Kara doesn't answer. She physically can't. In fact, she doesn't answer anymore questions. Ever. Right as I'm about to tape a piece of gauze onto her upper back, her body falls limp.

"Butch!"

His eyes light up at my worried voice. The lackey runs over to the stretcher. "Yeah?"

For a moment, I can't remember why I even called him over here in the first place. All I do is stare. The dead body slumps over, like it's forever trapped in a blissful sleep.

"Get her out of here." I mumble.

"I'll send in a guy to dump it. Oswald just told me to check on you. I gotta get back to him."

"Why were you just watching, then?" I feel a million miles away from Butch.

"'Cause I didn't get to ask yet. So how are you?"

"I'm fine. Send in whoever you need to. I have other things to worry about."

He does as he's told. Soon enough, a few men I don't recognize step into the warehouse. By that time, I've already cleaned up the station and moved to the next injury. How do I come back from that? I feel so, so guilty for just brushing over her. But why? I don't even know her! Why does it matter? It's just one less gang member running around the streets of Gotham! What should I care?

What if she has a family?

***

Throughout the night, I'm able to get through the entire lower level of the warehouse. Soon enough, everyone's up on the railings or on the stairway. I'm even able to send some home! I seem to work faster and more efficient when I'm upset. How funny.

"You don't have to work until the club closes," Oswald waddles into the warehouse. "You  _can_  relieve yourself of duty."

"Don't you think I know that?" I hiss whilst reorganizing the supply drawers.

"Someone's a little touchy, aren't we?"

"I'm fine, Oswald."

He crosses his arms and leans against the dresser. "You're as bad of a liar as your brother. Go home. You can organize this mess tomorrow... well, today."

"I'm honestly fine," I look up at the man. He clearly doesn't buy it. "I'm serious."

"Your mother's in the hospital and you lost one of your misfit toys. You're not 'fine'."

"He told you?"

"He kinda has to," Oswald reminds. "Anyways, you can do all this later. Go check on your mom."

I give him a skeptical glance. Who is he to tell me what to do?

"Or don't! It's up to you. But don't stay here."

"Fine," I mutter under my breath. "Can you give me a ride? Jim took my car."

"Yeah," he says, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Are you ready?"

"Yep."

He pushes back the plastic for me to walk through. "Have you finally learned how to get through this place?"

"Yes." I chuckle softly, still running my hands along the walls for bearings. Usually the light from the window to the club gives me some sort of light. This time, it's as dark as the night outside. Oswald must've already shut down the club.

"The door should be right in front of you." He informs.

His voice usually makes me extremely nervous and uncomfortable... but right now, it fits in so well with the darkness. It's like the two were made for each other. Perhaps over time, I'll learn to blend in the night of Gotham. Maybe one day, I'll be that light piercing in from the window of an outside world- a better world.

As a child, I was always scared of the dark. If I was being honest, I probably still am a little hesitant towards it. I feel like if I fall backwards, I'll be caught and wrapped into the night forever.

I push open the door and step into the dark club. Shouldn't I know the way out, yet? I almost panic when I can't feel Oswald behind me.

"Whoa, where are you?" Perhaps if I call out to the darkness, it will return my question.

His cold, sly voice answers. "Over here. I just got in front to lead you out."

"Ah," I respond, distantly. My mind is elsewhere. My thoughts are within and without of the very empty house of deceit and drunkenness. They rest upon nothing and everything, all at the same time.

The door to the club swings open and the light of the moon shines through the crevices of the buildings.

And there he stands, as if he belongs to the moon and stars. His dark hair mixes him with the night, but his complexion blends in with the lights of the sky. If I could capture the essence of his being in a single frame, right now would be the correct time to do so.

"Thanks." I say when he holds the door for me. My eyes take to the stars. Oh, how they shine tonight. Like a thousand dancers upon a stage of black, they twinkle and shine amongst the sea.

He pulls me out of my nearly euphoric moment. "You're acting like you've never seen the stars before."

"I have," I reply, now back down to Earth. "There's just something about them tonight that makes them special." I wander out onto the sidewalk, glancing up at them, then back at Oswald.

He laughs under his breath, like he's trying to keep it hidden. "I don't know about that. Come on, the car's this way."

I return his faint smile and follow him to the vehicle. Directing him to the house is easy. Figuring out how to explain to Jim that the Penguin dropped me off will not be.

He switches on the radio to some classical music as we drive. How fitting to this night.

"Are you okay?" Oswald asks, probably to my distance. "Did something happen with your mother?"

"No," I answer, folding my arms across my chest. "She's fine, well- you know what I mean."

He nods.

"I just don't understand why that damn girl is getting to me."

"The one that died?"

"Yeah," I say. "There was nothing I could do to help her. I thought I could if I gave her the right blood, fluid, pain medication and so-on, she could make it. This time-" my voice chokes off like a knot has tied itself in my throat. "This time there was nothing I could do to help the internal wounds. They were too close to her heart. I thought I could save her."

"Sera, you can't save everyone."

"I know," I sigh, leaning back in the chair. "I know."

"You  _cannot_  save everyone. There's just no way. You can't let it affect you this much."

My eyes narrow at Cobblepot. "Why shouldn't I?"

Yeah, Penguin! I heard he murders for fun. Why should I be taking any of his advice?

"You'll tire yourself out. 'Cause that's what you Gordons do. You obsess over the things you can't change-"

"I could've changed it!"

"Sera, if she had a bullet wound to her chest, like Butch  _told_  me she did, that girl didn't stand a chance."

"If she were at a hospital-"

"It would've ended the same way."

I scoff, giving up the argument.

"Remember when I told you about my mother?" He asks. I notice how he stops pushing the quarrel. And for a brief moment, I'm thankful.

"Yes. Why?"

"I would like for you to meet her. I think she'll like you."

"You think so?" I laugh. With everything my mother's going through, I can hardly believe he even suggests this. "I can't even put an image of her in my mind. I think she'll either be exactly like you or this extremely conservative nun."

His laughter fills the car as well. "You understand why that would make no sense, right?"

Nodding, my laughter dies down. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. Has Jim met her?"

"No... I don't think so. Anyways, will you do it?"

"Oh yeah, sure. Now you've got me curious. My house is right there."

"Is Jim home?" He asks, taking in the house.

I wonder what he thinks of it. Does he notice how the window on the upstairs floor shines with a dim, blue light? That room is mine. Does he care about the old, chipped white paint on the boards. Can he see the break in the fence where Jim once crashed his bike? Does any of it matter to him?

"Yeah, actually. That's my car. He usually takes it to work. I don't understand why he doesn't just take his cop car. Apparently, there are rules." I roll my eyes.

He chuckles. "Perhaps I can come and get you before work?"

"Sure. Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime."


	13. Protection

In the morning, I pack a bag. I plan to wear normal people clothes to meet Oswald's mom, then change into my normal blue scrubs and tennis shoes at the club. I'm not quite sure why, but I want to make a good first impression on Oswald's mother. If he cares for her as much as it's rumored, I want to make the very  _best_  impression on her. Just one little whisper from her and my job may be at stake.

That in mind, I dress in dark jeans and a dark red sweater. I slip on some black boots and scrunch up my hair. I even put on some makeup.

Right after brushing my teeth, a knock comes at the door. Luckily, Jim has already left by the time Oswald arrives.

"Are you ready?" He asks, wearing his typical suit. In his hand is an umbrella. I hadn't even noticed it was raining until I stepped outside!

"Yep," I sling the bag over my shoulder and lock the door behind me. "Is the weather going to be like this all day?"

"I think that's what the forecast said." He holds the umbrella over my head until we get to his car. "I don't think my mom lives too far from here."

"Yeah?" There's an unease to his voice, like he's nervous about the whole situation. Why? Is she that uptight? Or just the opposite? Butch told me that she's crazy.... If that's the case, then why did he invite me to meet her? His nervousness also makes me unwell. Thanks alot, Penguin.

He opens the door for me, then waddles over and gets into the driver seat. It's a kind gesture. The engine turns over, and we're off.

Oswald switches on the same classical station. He opens his mouth to say something. I expect him to give me a lecture on what and what not to say to his mother, just like Jim. I prepare myself for it. Lay it on me, Cobblepot.

Instead he just asks, "Do you like classical music? I can change it."

"No, it's fine," I say, pleasantly surprised. I swipe a strand of stray hair out of my eyes and gaze out of the window. Last night, I felt like I was a million miles away from this town. Now, I feel like I've never been so close to it. "I like it."

The rain pitter-patters on the car as Oswald drives around town. I find myself lost (once again) within the streets of the dark city. They captivate me, like how a dancer captures the attention of her audience.

Suddenly, I can feel the heat of Oswald's eyes upon the back of my head.

"What? You got a starin' problem?" I tease, not bothering to draw myself away from the window.

"W-What? N-No. It's just you always seem so drawn to the city.... Why?"

"I don't know," I answer, honestly. "Is that weird?"

"No!" He shakes his head, laughing. "It's not. In fact, I understand the feeling completely. Gotham is my home."

"Yeah! You understand...." Does he? Does he see the same things I see? I see the pain of a struggling city hidden along the alleyways and gutters. Does he see the aches and pains of the unfortunate? Or does he just see a kingdom for him to rule? I think on these things, and my attention is drawn away from the outside world.

"Oh," he says, pointing to a complex. "There it is."

The uneasy feeling returns. "Great."

The apartment complex doesn't rise too high in the sky, like the other buildings in Gotham. In fact, I'm willing to say that it's only about seven stories high. The brick complex looks sketchy, at best. I'm surprised that with all the money Oswald must be making, she's stuck in this dump.

"She's very nice," he assures, knocking on her door. "Mother?" After a while when she doesn't answer, he just opens up the door. "We're coming in."

"She doesn't lock her doors?"

He rolls his eyes, understanding my question. "No. I'm trying to get her to. I always lock it behind me when I leave. It's yet to become a habit."

I smirk softly as we step into the apartment. It's decorated in lavish furniture and artifacts from some foreign place. It feels like I've been transported to whatever European country she comes from. I'm no longer in Gotham, no. Gotham is a sea away.

"Feel free to look around," he says, nodding to the open area of the first room. "Mother?" Oswald calls into another room opposite of my end.

Glancing at the different pieces of clothing and art, I notice a picture of Oswald on a dresser. Before he can object, it's already in my palms.

"How old were you?" I laugh.

He sighs. "I think I was eighteen. Mom?"

As he peeks into different rooms, I follow the sound of a gentle lullaby I vaguely recognize. It's in some language I don't know, so I just hum along a harmony as I near it. It's beautiful and slow, like an old choral piece. Even when I pipe in with a higher harmony, it's still very clearly missing the depths of the choir.

The holder of the voice is his mother. She's staring at a bookshelf, mindlessly singing this beautiful aria. Her hair seems to be in a tangled mess of... something. And she's dressed in an old dress. Now that I think about it, she could easily fit in at an antique shop. I can just picture her running one of her own. Come one! Come all to my beautifully foreign store.

She starts on another verse, still unaware of my presence. As she does so, I follow her in a round of harmony. She suddenly notices me and turns on a whim, but she doesn't stop singing. His mother continues along, and I follow.

"Where did you learn to sing?" She asks in a very thick accent. I'm pretty sure it's German.

"My mother insisted that my brother and I take some musical lesson when we were kids. Jim took Cello; I took Piano and the vocals just came along with it," I smile. "I'm Sera. Sera Gordon."

She shakes my hand graciously, just like her son. "You have a very beautiful voice, Sera. Please tell me you put it to good use? I am Gertrud Kapelput."

"Uh no, actually. I hated being on the stage as a kid. Stagefright." I shrug.

"Ah," Gertrud shakes her head. "It is a shame, I tell you."

"Jim knows how to play the Cello?" Oswald asks from the doorway.

"Yep. I doubt he could play you a solo now, but he played it up until junior high. He may remember 'Hot Cross Buns'."

He smirks. "Hi, mother."

The two hug like they haven't seen each other in years. She even plants a kiss upon his lips, which I think is a little weird, but whatever works for them. I shrug it off. And who am I to talk, anyways? Growing up, I took advantage of my family. I wasn't grateful for them until it was too late.

"Oh! Come, come, I will make us some tea!" She jumps into action, bustling over to the kitchen.

"What do you think about her?" He asks quietly.

"Well," I slip my hands into my pockets. "She's certainly not your typical Gotham mom, but I like her. She seems sweet. In all honesty- Thank you so much." I take the cup from her outstretched hand, as does Oswald.

"So are you Oswald's girlfriend?" Gertrud sips on her tea, taking the couch opposite of us.

"Uh-" I'm completely taken aback. No, that is not the question I was planning on answering.

He obviously catches it. "No, mom. She works in my nightclub."

"Oh, are you a dancer?"

Oswald almost chokes on his tea.

"No," I say, smirking. "I am not. I'm actually a-" How do I explain that I fix up gang members in the back of Oswald's? Does she know? No, she can't. He once told me that he lies to his mother.

"She's on standby for any medical emergencies," he clarifies. "Sera's a doctor."

"Oh a doctor?" Gertrud seems very pleasantly shocked. As I take a drink from my cup, I notice her wink at Oswald. "How interesting!"

For a moment, I'm completely dumbfounded. I've barely met this woman and she's trying to set me up with her son. "Interesting indeed. It keeps me on my toes."

He chuckles nervously, obviously feeling a little overwhelmed from his mother. I frankly don't blame him. "She is our best! We're very lucky to have her."

"Oh I'm sure! And she's just so pretty!"

"Thank you." I smile.

"My, my, Sera. Look at the time! We have work to take care of. It was great seeing you, mom. I may stop by later tonight."

She nods, sadly. In a swift moment, Gertrud places her cup in the saucer and hugs her son, who is currently trying to push me out of the door.

He takes his hands off of my shoulders to wrap them around his mother one last time. "I love you and I will see you later."

"What a momma's boy." I tease as he shuts the door behind us.

He rolls his eyes. "So what?"

"I just think it's funny! You like to play this big bad nobody-can-touch-me thing and you come home to hug your mother. I dunno. I guess it's weird seeing a sensitive side."

Oswald shrugs, slipping back into his persona of toughness. "I can't afford to show it very often."

"You're tellin' me. Okay, so do you just run Falcone's club, like you did Maroni's? Or do you have more responsibility in the family? I don't think I've ever bothered to ask."

"I've basically taken Fish's place. Ready to uproot Falcone whenever his untimely death may be."

"I'm pretty sure he's been around since the dinosaurs. Good luck with that one."

He chuckles. "Right? Perhaps the fossil will just need a little push."

"You're planning on getting rid of Falcone?"

"I hope to at some point," he says. "Doesn't every apprentice hope to become better than his teacher?"

"Ah. Yeah, I suppose so." If Falcone is gone, who's going to pay for my mother? Will it even matter by that point? What happens when he is gone? Will I be free to leave the mob?

He quickly covers his tracks. "I wouldn't worry too much about it, though. These things take time."

"Sure."

***

"Sera? This is Rachel."

"Yes?" I answer the phone as I buzz around the warehouse. "What's up?"

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm just rearranging some stuff. Is everything okay at the hospital?"

"That's why I called you. Your mother is showing some warning signs. I can't explain all of them over the phone. You need to get up here soon."

Panic brushes against my thoughts. "I'll be right there."

Luckily, I'm not stitching anyone up when I get the call. I practically drop everything and run outside.

"What's the rush?" Butch asks.

"It's my mother."

Oswald joins the conversation with a worried glance. "Is she okay?"

"They called me and told me to get up there."

"Then go!" Butch urges. "Isn't the hospital only a few blocks away from here?"

"Yeah."

I continue in my run out of the club. The freezing, cold air burns my lungs. Rain sprinkles upon my face. The haste and the urgency spreads through my body like a pack of wild horses, rampaging endlessly through my veins. I can run forever. And I do run. I run until I get to the hospital.

"What's going on?" I demand, out of breath. At the time, I don't even notice the freezing wetness on my skin. "Is she okay?"

Rachel's look sends a pang of grief at my stomach. "They've taken her back to the O.R. There was some swelling and bleeding the doctors were concerned about. They said it doesn't look good, but they'll do what they can."

Leaning against the wall, I try to catch my breath. At just that time, Jim runs in.

"What's going on?"

She explains the same exact thing to him as she does with me. "You can wait in her room."

We do as we're told. Just like last time, we sit on opposite sides of the room.

"Where'd you come from?"

"Work. You?"

"Same."

"Ah. I'm staying at Lee's tonight. You'll have the house to yourself."

"I'm not leaving until mom gets out of surgery."

"Me neither," he clarifies. "I'm worried for her."

"Me too."

"Do you think she'll-"

"I don't want to think about it." I say, leaning back in the chair.

He nods. "Right. So, uh, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine," I smile softly. "Oswald made me meet his mom."

Jim laughs under his breath. "Oh yeah? How'd that go?"

I glance to the entrance, making sure he's not standing there. "I'm not surprised he's..."

"Crazy?"

"I wasn't going to say it as mean as you, but in essence, yes."

The kiddie pool conversation we're having is shallow, yes, but it keeps our minds off of mother. If it was silent, I'm afraid I'd start to cry, or bury myself in a load of guilt and self-pity. Jim would pace and anger himself into an unstoppable rage.

"We're on a pretty tough case, right now."

"Are you?" I ask, suddenly forcing myself to put every single little bit of attention into his story.

"Yeah. We call him the Ogre."

"Oh," I chuckle. "That's exciting."

"No, it's not."

"Why?"

"He's a serial killer, Sera. Whenever anyone gets close to him, he kills off whoever that officer loves."

The cold realization hits me in the stomach. That means me. I could taken off the street by this serial killer. All attempt at keeping my chin up fails. "So, me? Possibly."

"Yes," he nods, leaning against his knees. "He usually seduces his victims and then kills them off the next morning. I'm afraid he'll come after you or Lee."

Another wave of shock enters my bloodstream. "So, will you stop searching?" My voice is no louder than a whisper.

"You know I can't do that. I want you to get out of town."

"Isn't there any way for me to stay in Gotham? Can't I just run away when he tries to seduce me? I mean, there are other options!"

"I don't trust Gotham! It's not safe! You can't stay here, Sera. Look, I'll buy your train ticket. I just want you to stay safe. I'm already keeping all eyes on Lee, at all times. She's under my protection, and so are you."

"I don't want to leave."

"I know. It's only for a little while. I'll take the heat from Falcone. I just want you to be safe."

All of the sudden, a soft, authoritative voice fills our ears. "What if she's under our protection, at all times?" Carmine Falcone stands at the doorway.

He narrows his blue eyes at the man. "No. No. I say no. End of story!"

"I can," I stand, facing the man. "I think I can trust him."

"You can't be serious, Sera."

"But I am," I say. "Get Victor Zsasz to protect me."

"He's crazy!" Jim objects, flailing his hands.

Falcone nods in response to my condition. "I'm going to put Zsasz in charge of watching your every move. On top of that, you will have two other of my highly trained guards at your side. If you cannot trust us, Jim. Trust that she will be safe."

"I don't like this idea. Not one bit," he paces angrily. "I still think you should get out of town. It's the only safe option."

"I'm going to be fine, Jim."

He shakes his head and sits down in his chair, defeated.

"Arrangements will be made. I'll send my people immediately." Falcone tells me and exits the hospital. It suddenly makes me wonder why he's on the calling list. Is it seriously just because he pays for my mom's care?

"See? You have your police people, but I have my people too."

"Your people are liars and killers," he argues. "How is that the same?"

"It's exactly the same. We're family. Your people are liars and killers, too. Isn't that why you're trying to make it better? I'm trying to do the exact same, Jim."

Realizing this, he scoffs and leans back in his chair. "If anything happens, you're going to call me immediately, understand?"

I roll my eyes and lean against the white wall. "You got it, boss."


	14. The Help

Hours pass before mother gets out of surgery. Eventually, Lee comes to check up on Jim. She brings a few PB&J sandwiches and some cokes for us. We're grateful, of course, but the never ending trial of frayed nerves puts us on edge. Like we're forever dangled on the edge of a great cliff, we jump and hiss at every unexpected sound.

"Have they updated you at all?"

"No, they haven't. I would've told you, already." Jim snaps.

"Ah. Right. Why didn't I think of that?"

As one o'clock rolls around, she leaves to catch some sleep before work. A bald psychopath takes her place.

"Well isn't this an operation?" Zsasz struts in with two women at his side. "This is Azariah, and this is Miria. They'll be guarding the doors. Hi Jim!" He waves at my brother, who just gives him a dirty look. "Anyways, we're to protect  _you_ , missy. I hear there may be a target on your head!"

I shrug, too tired to answer.

"Oh this is going to be a fun twenty-four hours, I can feel it." He smirks and plops himself up on mom's empty hospital bed. "Does anyone have any food?"

Jim passes him the PB&J sandwich. There's no doubt that he's extremely uncomfortable in the situation. Hell, I don't blame him. The nervousness gets to him. Just as Jim's eyes drift close, they pulse open again, making sure everything's in order.

I feel like I'm in a time loop! I'm being protected from a murderer  _by_  murderers and thieves. Once again my brother is lost somewhere in the middle, searching for a way to save me.

"This is really good. Tell your girlfriend she makes excellent sandwiches!" Victor compliments with a nod of approval.

James gives him a tense smile. "Sure."

Three o'clock strikes and still no sound from mother. Jim leans against the wall in a peaceful sleep. I feel like I should stay up and keep Victor company. Even so, I can feel my eyelids drooping as I rest on my arm that's propped up on the counter.

"Long night?" He asks, tilting his head to match the angle of mine.

I nod, struggling to keep my eyes open.

His chocolate hues stare deeply into mine until I finally give up and drift to sleep.

***

"Miss Gordon?"

I can hear the voice, but it sounds like it's just a part of my dream.

"Sera."

The second voice is not anything like the first. The first is feminine. The second one is male. I know this voice. A sense of urgency arises, like a moment of panic. The feeling of knowing that my name is being called gets my blood rushing.

My eyes pop open.

A nurse I don't recognize stands in front of me. "Miss Gordon, your mother's out of surgery."

"How is she?" I ask, still getting my bearings. Jim is on the opposite wall, like I remember. To his side is Victor, who observes the whole situation with wide eyes.

The nurse lays a clipboard on the counter. "She made it out. The doctors put in a stent to keep the blood draining. She's steady, but still comatose."

"That's good news," I say, mid-yawn. "Anything else?"

"We're bringing her back to the room."

"Great."

Jim thanks the nurse as she walks out. Once she's gone, he stands. "I'm gonna go home. I have work in a little while. You should do the same."

"Are you good to go?"

"Sure thing," Zsasz says and stands. He stretches and calls in his comrades. "Let's move. You two take the car. I'll ride with the Gordons."

They nod and walk off to whatever vehicle they came from.

Jim leads Victor and I out to his car. It's a quiet ride to our residence. My brother has to tell Victor to get his feet off the dash three times.

"Feel free to switch on the TV," I tell the crew. "There are some snacks in the pantry over there."

"Sera. They're here on a job. They are not our guests," Jim snaps, grabbing my arm. "I don't want them to get too comfortable here."

"Thank ya, doc." Victor smiles and plops on the couch. "Ladies, I'd like for you to rotate. Azariah, start at the back door. Miria, guard the front. We'll go in thirty minute rotations."

"You got it."

"I'm going to bed," Jim announces. He sounds defeated and annoyed. I have no doubt in my mind that he's going to keep a gun by his bed, just in case. "If you need anything, that's where I'll be."

"Okay, Jim!" Victor waves. "Sweet dreams."

I sigh when Jim narrows his eyes at me. As if I couldn't feel bad enough slinging all of this on him. Thanks, James. I never told him that Victor Zsasz was my best friend! I think he's crazy! But I knew who I'd need in this situation. Would it be any better if I had Bullock here? No, he'd probably be asleep or drunk. I'm working with what I have.

"Me too. Come get me if you need anything."

"Okay! Goodnight!"

Even as I lock myself up in my room, I hardly find myself at ease. To know that I've brought people into my house that could turn and shoot me sends a chill down my spine. Just one word from Falcone and Victor Zsasz could have my throat.

My sleep is uneasy. I doze in and out of consciousness every few minutes. Each time I'm about to finally drift to a complete sleep, I get that dreaded falling feeling, and I jump. Sighing heavily, I pull up my flip phone and glance through my contacts. Is there anyone I can confide in?

My contacts only take up about five names, and none of them are trustworthy. Who am I kidding? Who would be there for me to talk to? Who would I want to talk to, anyways? My mom is an obvious no. Jim is also a big no. 

I give up on my idea to sleep and sit on my window sill, staring at the outside world. Gotham's lights flicker in and out, like a pulse. As if the very population could create a song, the flickering neon signs and lights make up the drum beat. The footsteps from the late-night lurkers create the bass. They walk and slap along to the rhythm given to them. The leading guitar flows out from each and every club, house and building. Oswald's is no exception to that, in the grand design of Gotham's song. Each spoken word makes up the background vocals. They're so normal, but just eerie enough to grab the listener's attention. It's only kept for a moment before turning their ears back to the main focus. The leader of the stage are the cries and outbursts from the too-real pains that cannot be held back.

In this moment, I wonder where I fit.

I fit nowhere and everywhere. I am within and without of Gotham's song.

***

I can't remember when, but I suddenly doze off and stay asleep. It's the light that wakes me up when it rises.

The musical movement has changed.

"Good morning," I greet the guarding party. Azariah and Miria look a little worn down from their all-night shift. Victor looks the same as always. His wide eyes stare out of the back door window. "Is anyone hungry?"

"I am."

"Me too."

"And me!" He waves, still staring. "How'd you sleep?"

It's a bit annoying when anyone asks how I slept, especially when I haven't slept very well. But instead of being annoying when he asks it, it's strange.

I try and shake off the sleepiness. "Uh- Fine, thanks."

Victor nods, approving of my answer. I can feel his eyes as I crack up some eggs.

"What do you want, Victor?"

"Does Penguin know about your pajamas?"

"No?" Where does that sentence even come from? I'm wearing a purple shirt... with darker purple pants. They're decorated with- oh. They're decorated in Whales, Fish and Penguins. "Oh." I chuckle, stirring around the eggs.

I can hear his chuckle. He doesn't say anything else about it though.

"I hope you can eat bacon and eggs," I set out the plates and bowls of food. "Get it while it's hot."

"It smells so good..." Azariah comments, taking in a deep whiff of the bacon.

Miria asks her boss if they can eat.

He allows it.

In less than fifteen minutes, the girls consume 3/4 of all the food. Even Victor eats a few bites of scrambled egg. It causes me to wonder: what exactly do hitmen eat? Is there a specific hitman diet? Does every criminal have one? Does Falcone only eat pork ever other day? Is Oswald a vegetarian? Does Maroni only eat seafood?

"I think I'll be okay for the rest of the day," I tell them after I've gotten dressed. "I'm going to club and there's people all around to protect me, right?"

Victor sighs. "Azariah and Miria, you can go. I'm going to stay with her. If she ends up dead before midnight tonight, we're all in deep waters."

Jim must've taken his cop car and left my car, in case something were to happen. Victor and I part cars. Azariah and Miria go about their own ways, walking.

***

When we get to Oswald's, I feel relaxed from the moment we step through the door. Something about this place just makes me feel secure. No serial killer can get to me here.

The man of the hour and his lackey are sitting in a close range. Oswald looks pleased, too pleased.

"It's going to work, Butch."

I've noticed how Oswald's dialect changes depending on the situation. From the way he says 'Butch', I know that he's up to something.

"What's going to work?"

"Nothing," he covers, too quickly. "I thought you wouldn't be here until later."

"Nope! I just didn't want to stay at my house. I have things to do." The unpleasantness in my voice should be a hint enough for him. Oswald should be able to read me now. I nod towards Victor, who waves at the two.

Butch nearly cowers away from Zsasz.

I can't believe I forgot about Butch! Zsasz is the one who gave him that scar! And I fed him breakfast! The guilt runs through me like a homecoming parade.

"How's the conditioning working out?" He asks his pet.

Butch nods. "Just fine. Thanks."

"I've seen no fault in it," Oswald clasps his hands together. The unamusement is clearly written on his face. "It's excellent, really. Now, why is he here?"

"Because there's a serial killer on the loose who's probably gonna go after Jim's loved ones in the next few hours."

After a minute, it processes. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Why doesn't Jim have eyes on you?"

"You really have to ask? He's trying to catch the killer. Falcone overheard and offered twenty-four hour protection."

His voice goes from concerned to annoyed in two seconds. "So he didn't think to keep you in the GCPD building or anything?"

"Well, no. I kind of suggested Zsasz... Think about it, Oswald. If I'm put in protective custody, what's stopping them from locking me up?"

"The fact that nobody knows, Sera!"

Victor jumps in, "So far nothin's happened. I feel  _confident_  Jim will find this killer."

"What if he doesn't and the twenty-four hours go by?" He huffs.

"I'll just go to the GCPD."

"I don't trust them."

He's being completely, unbelievably impossible. "Two seconds ago you were saying I should've stayed at the GCPD building, now you're saying you don't trust them! Make up your mind!" I cross my arms and stare him down.

Oswald does the same, except he glances over to Butch who just shakes his head and takes a drink. I turn to Victor who practically mimics Butch.

"How about when the twenty-four hours are up, I do what I want... regardless of what you say?"

As soon as I say that, I regret it. For as long as I've known him, he has a need to be in control of every situation. I just blatantly told him I'm going to do the exact opposite. A twinge of fear shoots down my spine. I expect him to blow up in my face. Hell, he may even try and hurt me. He's been known to do it, right?

"I trust you can find your own way to your work space?" He asks, calmly and cooly as ever. And that's perhaps worse than anything he can physically do to me.

Victor and I leave without another word.

***

"Yeesh, that was something," Zsasz comments once we're back in the warehouse.

He gets my message from the look I shoot him.

"I'm just saying!" His dark eyes are ever-piercing. "Let me guess, you have a little fling for him, huh?"

"No!" I fume, viciously checking the inventory. "Why does everyone say that?!"

"Hey. Just a question, doc."

"No! He and I are not  _lovers_. Get that idea out of your head, Zsasz."

He shrugs, "Yes, ma'am... Are you always this concentrated when you work?"

Victor hops up on the dresser and crosses his legs. I can feel his eyes on me. It inwardly makes me seethe.

"Yes, Victor. I am."

"I should watch you work more."

He just has to make it creepy. Always. Why should I even think otherwise?

It only takes a few minutes for me to go through each of the drawers and complete a chart of inventory. We're running low on decontamination supplies and fluids. I make a list and write down the final things.

Luckily, business in the warehouse is pretty relaxed. During the daytime, the battles and quarrels happen. During the night, they all need care. It's like an eye in the storm.

"Stay here."

"Sure thing," he says and stares at whoever else he can see. My guess is that he's probably fantasizing about how they'll die.

I sneak through the passageway, but stop before I walk through the door to the club. Butch and Oswald are talking.

"I'm tellin' ya boss, you should just explain it to her."

"Explain what to her, exactly?" I can hear him pacing.

"Why you want her to be safe! She'll understand!"

"Will she?" he asks. "And what do I say?"Oswald continues, "and it wouldn't even matter. I'm not risking it. Not right now. I can't."

"Then just say enough to mend the ties," Butch says, easily. " _Explain_  enough to mend the ties. You want her on your side when this thing rolls over."

"I know," he sighs. "I know."

It sounds like he's about to walk through the passageway. I run as hard as I can back to the warehouse, never bothering to look back.

"Whoa, what's going on?" Victor draws his gun at the sight of me.

"Nothing," I can hardly find the wind to breathe. "Nothing. I'm fine. I'm fine."

He raises a brow. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I say, setting down my clipboard. "I'm seriously fine. I'm okay."

"You were eavesdropping! You naughty, naughty girl. I like you."

I scoff.

"Sera?" Cobblepot's voice comes over my ears.

I turn, acting like I've been working. "Yes? Oh, um, I have the inventory. I don't know who I'm supposed to give it to."

"Falcone," he says. "Look, about earlier, I want to apolog–"

"Think nothing of it." I smile softly, "I was just–"

"Same." He nods in understanding.

From behind us, Victor rolls his eyes in agony.


	15. Walking Through Fire

The first thing that registers is the taste of blood and dirt on my lips.

The next thing is the pain.

Each breath I manage to push out aches to my very core. But that's not all that hurts. I can feel my head pounding, I think.

I think.

What's going on?

I finally open my eyes. Oh my God. There's an arm. Just an arm! Is it my arm!? No, no. I'd be feeling it. I can't see anything else! I'm buried beneath rock and... chunks of building. A ray of sunlight peeks through the pile of rubble. Only a small space remains. I'm cocooned into this tiny little area between the rocks.

"Help! Someone help me!"

I get no answer.

"Help me!!!"

Still nothing. I try to push through the gravel and ruins of a warehouse, but I can't manage anything! Every movement hurts too badly!

I'm stuck.

Tears streak down my face as I stop struggling against the rock.

What happened?

I remember talking to Oswald and Butch. Falcone showed up at one point. He said something about needing to visit a different warehouse.

And then nothing.

Where is Victor? Wasn't he supposed to be protecting me? I try and adjust myself in the uncomfortable rock.

"AGH!"

A piece of metal's gotten stuck in my leg. If I had the right equipment I'd pull it out. If I try and attempt it now, I'll just lose more blood. I don't even know how much I've lost! I don't know anything!

Wait, no. I do know something. I'm pretty sure I have a concussion, so I force myself to stay awake. Just breathe. Jim will find me. Harvey will find me. They will find me.

The pain from my leg starts to become more real as I wake up, further. The chunk of metal is gruesome to look at.

But what do I think about? When I try to put my mind to one topic, the pain pushes through it. Okay, I have to think about nothing.

Nothing.

I stare up at the ray of sunlight and clear my mind. Just think about nothing. Think about the light.

"Help me!" I shout, distantly.

As time runs on, I'm more and more convinced I'll never be found.

Claustrophobia sets in. The space I have is minimal. I feel trapped, like I'm in a coffin.

"Someone get me out of here!" This time, I'm screaming.

No matter how much I push against the rocks, I make no difference in the massive pile.

I scream again, no matter how much my lungs ache.

And again.

And again.

"Anyone?! Help!"

How do I force myself to become okay with this fate? Do I say my goodbyes? Do I cry? Wait, too late for that.

I'll go to church, every single Sunday! If I get out of here, I'm going to tell Jim he's my favorite person in the world. I need to tell him that I love him! I'm going to buy Harvey all the liquor in the world! I'm not done yet! I have to get out of here! I still have to save Butch! I need to help that Bruce kid find his parents' killer! I still need to see my mother talk again! I need to- I need to-

A chill runs down my spine. Goosebumps rise on my arms. A weird feeling swells in my heart. I dwell on it for a minute, trying to figure out what it is. Am I about to have a heart attack? Is this my body's way of telling me it's shutting down?

It's a stinging, pulling feeling. It feels like I'm floating and falling all in the same. Who could possibly know what this is? My stomach drops to my toes. I've shut out that part of my heart for so long, I forgot it even existed.

Oh, no.

Not right now. I am not going through this right now! I have too much to be thinking about!

Tears continue to pour down my cheeks in a steady flow.

Apparently, I am.

I should trust my desire. Right now, I'm desiring to get the hell out of here! That is all I need to be desiring! Damnit.

My shoulders shake uncontrollably.

I remember every single look I've seen on  _his_  face. I think about every single time he's said my name and how special they sounded. He came into my life and spun it around, permanently. And it's killing me to think that I'll never see him again. Every possibility seems to fly through my mind like a movie.

Minutes seem like hours, and hours seem like minutes. My phone must've gotten lost somewhere in the rubble. I have nothing to give me a sense of time. Only the single ray of sun to tells when a day sets.

I'm so hungry. How long has it been since I've eaten? Does it matter? One shift in the ruins and the weight of the rocks above can crush me.

* * *

 

How long have I been here? Will I ever see the sun again? Will I ever be able to feel the rain brush against my face? That's perhaps what I'll miss most about Gotham: the rain. Gotham's rain is always cool, with thick droplets that land like snowflakes on my hair.

I stare at the light above me. I'm okay. I have air. I have space. I can make it a few days.

My daydreams will keep me company, like always. They can take my mind off of the pounding aches and pains I'm feeling.

But I'm scared.

And I'm alone.

I don't want to die alone.

They'll find me. I know they will.

* * *

 

For a moment, the light seems like it's getting bigger. I just assume it's my own imagination. But more and more light floods through the cracks. The rocks above me slowly disappear.

They've found me! Oh, they've found me! In mere seconds now, I'll be pulled from the wreckage! I'll be saved. I'm safe. The relief flows down my face in waves.

My eyes blink awake. I must've fallen asleep. I'm still alone.

"Damnit!" I hit and kick against the constraints.

Pain shoots through my leg. The rocks shift against my force. A thick piece of the building lays on the leg with the metal stuck in it.

"AGH!"

* * *

 

"I think I've found her..." A voice I don't recognize comes over my ears. A rock is pulled from around my hair. I meet a pair of green eyes, hidden behind thick glasses. "Detective Gordon! Bullock! I've found her!" The lanky kid tries to pull me from the mess, but trips on his own feet.

All of the sudden, I feel two thick arms wrap around my chest and pulls me from the rocks.

"Agh!" I groan, and scream and cry. I feel like I do everything all at once.

"I need a medic!" Harvey shouts to the ambulance.

Oh, the clean air feels so nice to my lungs. It's so sweet and crisp.

I start to weep uncontrollably when he picks me into his arms and carries me to a safe place. I'm so lost in my relief that I can't even get my bearings for a few minutes.

"There are more people in that rubble, Sera," Harvey says, gently pulling my hands away from my face. "I have to go see if I can save them."

"Go save them," I sniffle, finally getting a sense of where I am.

We're at some warehouse by the docks. Falcone told me to check out a few of the wounded there. That's how I ended up here. The building exploded!

"I'll be okay."

The squintern who pulled me out stands awkwardly to the side.

Harvey pats him on the back. "Way to go, Nygma."

He adjusts his glasses and smiles at his praise.

"Thank you." I mumble as I lean my head against the neighboring building. My hands are shaking and covered in the residue from the building, as is the rest of my body.

Jim runs off the pile of rubble and cups my face. "Are you okay? Talk to me, Sera!"

"I'm fine," I cough. "I'm okay. There's something wrong with my leg."

He glances at it. "Yeah. We'll get it taken care of. It looks like you banged up your head pretty good too."

"Did I?"

"Yeah," he chuckles. Jim's not able to keep in his grin anymore. "I'm so glad you're safe. Do you know what happened?"

"The building exploded, right?"

"Right."

"Where is Zsasz? He was with me... I think."

"He was watching outside of the building. He's alright. You only need to worry about yourself." Jim's blue eyes gaze into mine, and I'm reminded of my promise.

Without thinking, I hug him tightly. "I love you Jim."

He blinks after the embrace is over. It's like he doesn't know how to answer. How long has it been since we've said that to each other? "Love you too." Jim nods, like it's a promise. But isn't that what love is? It's not a feeling; it's not an emotion! Love is a promise: a promise to protect and to care for and forgive. Our promise just hasn't been spoken in a while.

Some medics come and lay me on a stretcher. They talk to me slowly, and ask me questions.

"What's your name?"

"Sera Gordon."

"What day is it?"

"Thursday?"

"Do you know where you are?"

"Gotham.... I don't know where, exactly."

They flash a light into my eyes and take my vitals, as per the usual. The staff doesn't put up any emotional hint as to what they think of my condition.

Frankly, I don't care what they think! I'm just so glad to be out.

"We're going to take her to the hospital!"

Jim tells them he'll be there in a little while and keeps digging in the ruins.

As we pull away, I notice just how big the wreckage is. A full sized warehouse came crashing down. Even some of the neighboring building fell with it. It's huge!

Why did it explode?

* * *

 

I finally get some pain medication when we get to the hospitals. Doctor and nurses run around frantically.

In the end, their game plan isn't as bad as I think it's going to be. I'm going to need some respiratory medication for the gunk in my lungs. There's a gash on my forehead that will need stitching.And obviously, they're going to take out the chunk of metal in my leg and set me up with some crutches.

It's going to be okay. I'm going to be okay.

They take me back to operations and begin working on my leg (once I'm changed into a hospital gown, of course). The team of doctors disinfect the area and remove the chunk of metal. It's not an easy procedure. I cry out because of the pain. Even though they've claimed to numb the area, it doesn't do much when it's ripping through muscle and flesh.

Finally, they get it out and fix up the rest of my thigh. I don't even mind the stitches!

As they start on my head, I don't understand how anyone could do this without pain medicine! I make a mental note to pat Zsasz on the back next time I see him!

Eventually, they finally allow me to rest.

* * *

 

"Come in."

Oswald and Butch enter my door. Flowers rest in each of their arms.

"Hello," the lackey says, setting his flowers on my table. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm  _fine_ ," I smile and giggle, sleepily. "How are you?"

Oswald laughs under his breath, as does Butch.

"I see the pain medication's working," Cobblepot says. He lays his flowers on my bed.

They look like they've been through a trainwreck. Butch seems like he's been anxious for hours. Oswald's features are red, like he's been crying or something. Something within me stirs. It makes me...  _feel_. It's a tenderness and gentleness I've only felt with one person before. But I can't be going through this now! I refuse to. With everything I have in me, I push it away and consume myself with the numbness of my brain and stay there.

"Eh. It's doin' its job." Laying back on the pillows, I wince. The pain medicine messes with my head, but it doesn't take away all of the aches.

Butch smirks, "Glad to hear it."

"What actually happened back there? I don't remember too much."

Oswald and his lackey exchange nervous glances. Finally, the leader speaks. "Well, you went to the warehouse and it exploded."

"But why? I don't remember! You have to fill in the blanks for me."

"She's going to find out. You know Jim is going to tell her."

Oswald sighs, but answers my question. "There's a war between Maroni and Falcone."

"So what you're telling me is that that the building exploded in response to that war starting."

"Yeah," Butch leans against a white wall.

"Who started it?"

"Everyone will say Falcone did."

If I know Carmine Falcone, I know that he doesn't just go off looking for a fight! This war means a loss of money and trust within the people of Gotham. No, this war couldn't have been started by Falcone. I refuse to believe it.

"Okay, but who really started it?"

"Isn't that the question of the hour?" The thicker man smirks.

Just by the look on Oswald's face, I  _know_  who started it. He planned it. I can feel it. This is all of his fault. Every single tear I've shed in the past- God knows how long is because of him! He's the one who got the ball rolling.

My jaw clenches, as do my fists.

"Oooh. I think she's piecing it together."

Oswald gives me the most sincere, apologetic look he can muster.

"Come here," I tell him, smiling thinly.

"I-I think I should stay right here."

"Oh, come on, Oswald."

He reluctantly stands and leans over my bed. That gives me the leverage to punch him right across the cheek.

Butch doubles over in laughter. "Ohohoho~ I was expecting a slap!"

The Penguin rubs his jaw and glares at both of us.

"I can't believe you would do something like that!" I shout at him. "I was trapped under a building, Oswald!"

"I know!" he snaps, keeping a hand on his cheek. He quickly snatches up the ice pack I wasn't using and places it on his face. "and I'm sorry! I didn't know he was going to bomb a building the day after!"

"You didn't?! That's some shit planning!" I huff and cross my arms. "You should've known that Maroni would come with everything he had!"

"I realize that now! You're not even mad that I started the war, are you? You're mad because you got hurt! You were scared."

"I was scared!" I yell. Is he just an idiot? Or naturally a jackass!? Yes, I was scared!! I was trapped under a building, for Christ's sake! I thought I was going to die! I prepared myself for it! "I thought I was going to die!"

"And I'm  _sorry_ for that!"

"Are you?!"

He doesn't say anything. He just stares at the equipment, like he's lost in thought. The silence sends a pang of sorrow at my stomach. It eases my nerves. Instead of hitting him, I feel like weeping.

"While I was trapped... I um, I forced myself to think about a lot."

Oswald relapses into reality. He seems mildly surprised. "Okay. What did you have to think about?" His voice is barely above a whisper.

I glance at Butch.... I'm once again reminded of the promises I made. I still have to save him. Tears swell up in my eyes. The lackey nods at me in a mutual understanding.

Sniffling, I look back up at Oswald, who's concerned for me. It's a funny thought. A man who doesn't have any regard for human life is concerned for my well-being.

"A lot." I say, laughing softly. Inwardly, I seethe. If I was sobered up off of this medicine, there would be no way I'd ever be like this in front of him.

"May I come in?" Carmine Falcone knocks on the door.

"Yes."

Oswald drops the ice pack and leans on his hand to keep the knot from showing. So Falcone  _doesn't_  know!

"I'm so sorry for what has happened to you," he says, leaning on his cane. "I want to offer my sincerest apologies."

"It's fine. No one could've possibly known this was going to happen."

I can sense Oswald's rolling his eyes.

"I'll take care of your hospital expenses-"

"You don't need-"

"Please, let me do this."

I nod, leaning back in my bed.

"I wanted to ask you when you could possibly be back into work. Don't get me wrong. I don't want you to come back until you're fully well, my dear. These are just some bloody times for us all. We're going to need every ounce of help we can get."

"I understand. I'm going to be back in a matter of days." I smile at my boss, who returns the gesture.

"That's very good to hear. Forgive my intrusion. I really must be going." The big bad leaves the room almost as quickly as he entered it. I have no doubt he's going back to hide within his money.

Oswald protests as soon as the door is closed. "There's no way you can be back in a few days. You'll be on crutches for weeks, at least!"

"And while I'm on crutches I'm completely useless? No. You get me the nurses to work with and I'll guide them."

He rolls his eyes, giving up on the argument.

"I've gotta go, boss." Butch checks his phone, then slips it in his pocket. How much does he hate being here? What's it like for him to stand next to the man he hates? Does he hate him at all? Does he care about me?

Oswald relieves him. He nods to me and leaves.

The Penguin and I are alone in an awkward silence. It remains for a little while. I don't blame either of us for staying quiet. What is there to say? One thing is for certain. Neither of us can spill the truth. Not until the war is over, anyways.

"I don't want to leave you here."

"You won't. Jim should be coming soon."

"It's just- My mother. I don't know if they'll try and get to her..."

"Go to her," I say, getting a new wave of pain medicine. "You should be with her."

He sighs and stands. I can feel like he wants to do or say something.

"Bye."

"Bye."


	16. Bleeding

Jim finally comes in around midnight. Apparently, the Ogre guy is still out there.

"How are you?" He asks, sipping on a bottle of water. He looks disheveled, like he's been in a fight.

"Fine," I shrug, feeling the pain medicine start to wear off. "And you?"

He nods, catching his breath. "I'm alright. It's been a long night."

"So it would seem," I say, studying his features. "Have you taken a shower?"

He shakes his head.

"Well, you should. You smell like death."

He laughs, softly. "I figured. Thanks. So did you hear about the war?"

"Yeah," I smirk, sarcastically, folding my arms across my chest. "I've heard too much about it. What do you know?"

"Just the basics. You know this means you could get hurt right? I mean, look at you. You already have."

Oh, yeah, Jim. Believe me, I know. "I know. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna shy away from the fight."

He sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I figured as much. There's no way I can convince you to get out of town? Just until the war's over?"

I shake my head, "Nope. There's no way I'm missing it."

James looks defeated, like I've just thrown his dog out of a window. "It's going to be dangerous."

"I know."

"You could very easily die."

"I know."

He leans back in his chair. "I won't be there to dig you out of every building, y'know."

"I know," I chuckle. "I know that the city will be a total war zone. Every single Gothamite will be involved. Even if I tried to back out of the gang now, I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"I already told Falcone I'd be back into work soon."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. My guess is that he's about to say the same exact thing Oswald did. "You're going to be hobbling around a warehouse, I'm guessing, taking care of wounded-"

"Soldiers."

"That was not what I was going to say," he clarifies.

I quirk a brow. "Wasn't it? Aren't they, though? They're just people fighting for a cause they think is right. They're fighting for their family."

"Don't tell me you're on their side."

"Who will be if I'm not? I though we've already gone over this, Jim."

"Yeah, but now you're defending them. Do I need to remind you of the things they do? Of the things he does? He's a murderer! He's killed innocent people! Get the idea out of your head that he has the potential to be a good guy. He will never be a good guy, Sera!"

I don't say anything for a few minutes. I can't. Jim never specifies who he is with a name, but I have a pretty good idea of whom he's talking about.

"Don't do this to me right now."

"Fine," he snaps. Jim sits back in his chair and folds his jacket over his arm. His lips purse into a line. He's trying to get himself back into control.

"How's Lee?"

"She's alright. You know what? I probably need to go see her, actually. She left the GCPD not too long ago."

"Tell her I said hi. And tell her to come visit me?"

He nods as he stands. "I will. I will. Bye."

"Bye."

* * *

 

"AGH!" I scream as I sit up.

The machine beside my bed beeps violently with my pulse. Before I can realize what's going on, a nurse runs in.

"Are you okay, Miss Gordon?"

"I'm fine," I gasp. "I'm fine. Just a- a bad dream."

She places her hands on her hips and inhales deeply. "Girl, you had me scared."

"Are you new?"

The darker skinned woman nods. "This is my first night, ma'am."

I glance at the board before answering. "Well, I'm certainly glad to have you, Mary."

"You used to work here, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I had to quit though. There's just some other things going on that were more important."

"You're braver than I would've been. In this economy, I don't understand how anyone would risk going without a job."

"Yeah," I reply with a strained laughter. "It is pretty risky."

"Well, I'm going to let you get back to sleep. I'll be back around four to take your vitals. The doc says you may actually be able to go home tomorrow morning."

"Great."

I flash her a smile as she leaves. Perhaps I should feel intimidated that this woman took my place. Instead, I'm glad that the hospital's gotten someone like Mary. They need someone with life in them. I think she's possibly exactly what the GCH needs.

The window to the city is right by the head of my bed. Instead of looking upon the buildings from a distant, like in my home, I'm in the middle of the city, gazing out. Gotham seems quieter tonight. Every light pulses in and out slower. Each building gives off a dimmer, steadier light. The clomps and slaps from the late-night seekers are muffled. Even the usually loud songs from the clubs and restaurants sound like they're miles away. The population whispers; the cries are shorter and softer.

From where I'm looking, the city's gathering some sense of harmony and peace... Even though Gotham is in the middle of a blood war.

I wonder how many poor souls will die tonight because I'm not at Oswald's. Their deaths will rest on my head. I'm the reason they're in suffering! I can't fix them.

* * *

 

The morning comes like a forgotten promise. Each time I'd doze off, I'd be awakened by my nightmares. It became such a routine that Mary stopped coming in by the sixth time.

"The doc will be in to check on your progress shortly," she says when eight o'clock rolls around. "My shift is over. Your new nurse will be in to write down her information."

"Okay," I smile, tiredly. I have no desire other than to sleep. It's been escaping me for so long, that I feel like I could sleep for a century if I were allowed. "It was great meeting you, Mary."

"And you." She returns the gesture and walks out.

The doctor does come in only an hour after she leaves. I know this doctor, actually. I've done a few operations with him.

"Looks like you're good to go, Sera. Stay off of this leg, at least until we have a post-op visit, okay? That'll be three weeks-"

"Three weeks?! I don't have three weeks to-"

His looks stops me.

"Fine," I mutter, crossing my arms.

"I trust Mary adjusted your crutches already?"

"Yep."

"And I'm giving you this prescription. Get Jim or somebody to put it in for you. You should go home and rest."

Like  _that_  will happen.

"Have they already come back to give you the post-op shpiel?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you're good to go. Jim's picking you up, right?"

"I think his girlfriend is, actually. Jim's off doing police... stuff."

"Ah. Okay. I'll see you later."

He hands me the note and disappears behind the door. I don't have to wait too long before a nurse comes back to get me in a wheelchair and wheels me down to the car.

Lee opens up the door and helps me inside. We thank the nurse and drive off.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," I exhale sharply. Standing on my own does not feel too good. "Thanks."

"No problem," she frowns. There's actual concern in her voice. She hardly knows me, and she's worried about me. It's weird. "So, under a building, huh?"

"Yeah." I chuckle, throwing my cumbersome crutches into the backseat.

She opens her mouth to say something, but I guess she thinks better of it. Lee switches on the radio. "You can change it to whatever you want. I'm not picky."

I shrug, leaving it on the station it's at.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What was it like? Under the building, I mean. Is it too soon?"

"No, no." I say. Am I really ready to talk about it? Oswald didn't ask me about it. Neither did Jim, really. All they were concerned about was if I was alive, or not. "Um... It wasn't exactly fun. I'll say that."

"Did you panic? Did you think you were going to die?"

"I did both, yeah. The Claustrophobia really did me in. I didn't think myself as a very claustrophobic person, but when you're trapped under feet of rock and building, you're kind of forced into that mindset."

"Yeah! No doubt!"

"I did think I was going to die though. I planned out my last thoughts. Everything."

"Wow," she shakes her head. "I wouldn't be able to do it... Did you come to peace with it or what?"

"I did. But it wasn't easy." I smirk. "It forced me to think about a lot of things I didn't necessarily want to think about yet."

She waits on me to continue.

"I mean, I had to be okay with losing the ability to tell Jim I loved him. I had to make myself okay with the fact that I'll never get married, have kids, save the world. All of that stuff. It was rough."

Lee puts a hand on her face. "I can't even imagine myself going through something like that. I'd be a goner," she chuckles. "You were under there for like twenty-four ish hours, I think they said."

"That doesn't seem like very long," I say, now feeling silly I panicked so much.

"Well no one called it in to the police! No one knew about it until some fisherman docked his boat and called it in!"

"There was an explosion, Lee!"

"I  _know_! I mean, is the public that oblivious to everything around them? I'm sure people around did hear it though. Perhaps they just didn't care enough to call it in."

Isn't that the saddest part? No one cared to call it in. Isn't that what happened with my dad? 

"That's sad."

"I know. It makes me mad."

"Same..."

"Right? I just wish Gotham had people who cared."

"Agreed."

The rest of the way home, I get to know a little bit more about Lee. She's actually a pretty nice girl. She's adventurous and outgoing. I think she's a good fit for my brother. Then again, I don't think any girl will ever be good  _enough_  for my brother, but I digress.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay here, by yourself?"

"Of course!"

"I don't want to leave and then you just keel over, ya know?" She laughs, folding up my prescriptions and slipping them into her pocket. "I'll drop this off by the pharmacy."

"Thanks," I tell her. "Will Jim be here after work?"

"Oh, I'm sure. If he isn't planning on it, I'll make him come."

"Great."

"Are you sure you have everything?"

"I'm sure, Lee," I laugh. "I have a blanket, crutches, phone, TV remote and snacks. I'm set for life."

She rolls her eyes, gathering up her purse. "I'll see you later, Sera. Rest up!"

I do as she says.

* * *

 

A knock on the door wakes me up. It's loud and obnoxious, like they've been banging for a while now. I'm hesitant to go to the door, thinking it may be the Ogre.

"I'm coming," I shout with my hoarse voice. I sound like I've had Bronchitis for a month. I'm just coughing so much. The pain starts returning to my leg and head as I stand. Nope. Nope. I really wish Jim would be home soon, so he could bring me my meds. "Oh, hello."

It's Butch.

"Come in. Can I get you anything?"

"Uh, no. I'm fine," he waves me off. "Can I help  _you_  with anything?"

"Nah. I'm good." I plop back on the couch, wincing as I do so. "Unless you could get my medicine. I'd love you forever."

"Don't let Penguin hear you say that."

I laugh. "Why not?"

He doesn't laugh along. No. He doesn't look the least bit pleased with anything, for that matter. "Do I need to spell it out for you?"

It stops my chuckle. Instead, I copy his same, blank expression. "No."

"Then I also don't need to spell out why going after a guy like him is a bad idea."

"No."

"He's a very dangerous guy. And the people that hate him are even more dangerous. Who would you be more afraid of? Fish Mooney, or the Penguin?"

I don't answer. I don't have to. My silence is more than enough of an answer for him. Isn't it always?

"He thinks I'm here to check up on you, which is true. But I'm also here to warn you. Falling in love with a man like him is like signing a death wish."

"I know," I finally say. "But I'm ready for anything Gotham can throw at me. I've been trapped under a building, Butch."

"I'm just saying! There are worse things than being trapped. But you should know a lot about that, shouldn't you?"

"What?"

"Not all of us are idiots, Sera. Oswald and I both know that you're only still in the family because Falcone is paying for your mom's nursing home. What happens when she dies?"

"Don't even say it."

"What happens then? How deep will your loyalties go?"

"Are you against me, Butch? Because that's what it's sounding like." I cross my arms over my chest.

He shakes his head. "No. I'm not. I'm rooting for you, kid. I just don't want you to be caught off-guard when all of this rolls over. There are going to be changes. It's not going to go over as smoothly as you're planning."

"Well, then I appreciate the information," I say, still not convinced. "But I think I'm going to be okay."

"As long as you're sure. I'd hate to see someone like you get crushed under the rule that's coming. You know Penguin's planning to come out on top, right?"

I nod. "I know. I think he'll be able to hold down his own."

"You think? He won't be able to do anything without someone behind him."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You take it how you want, sister."

I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. "I don't understand. Are you warning me? Or are you telling me to go for it?"

He shrugs.

I roll my eyes at his vagueness. Seriously? I'm half expecting Butch to bust out in some prophecy!

_'When the clock strikes on the eleventh hour, you and Penguin shall ever be apart! Unless you travel to the mystical land and gather a mushroom! Take it back to HQ and bury it beneath your feet! If you do that then you shall remain forever together.'_

Well, he doesn't. Instead he just asks:

"How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Thanks. If Oswald is that worried about me, tell him to come visit me himself."

"You got it." He stands and leaves without a word.

The slamming door sends chills down my back. Butch is right, though. He's right about all of it. I'm sending out my own death wish to every villain in Gotham if they even suspect he's in a relationship. I'm just another leverage point for them to be able to hurt him. I'm a weakness. But I'm also a strength. If Penguin has someone behind him, it'll boost his confidence. Plus, my medical knowledge is a strength in itself. Once again, I'm a walking contradiction.

"What about my medicine?"

* * *

 

I can't remember when exactly, but Jim finally comes home from work.

He quickly checks up on me, then goes to see Lee. He leaves the medicine, pizza, emergency numbers and the remote on the table. I drift in and out of consciousness as he does so.

During one of my trips to the restroom in the night, I remember hearing a knock at my door. I grab a baseball bat to answer it.

"Hello?" I answer, groggily and sleepily.

"Hello. We're with Don Salvatore Maroni. We're going to have to ask you to come with us."

Two men with firearms stand at my door. The fear wakes me up, immediately.

"I'm sorry... I can't. I need to stay here."

"Or we can knock you out and take you. Your choice."

Before anyone can answer, I slam the door shut and lock it. I ditch the crutches and run. The phone sits right on the table. It's so close!

The sound of them knocking down my door is a constant pulse, just like the throbbing in my leg.

"Fine." I drop the phone on the ground and raise my hands above my head. "I'm coming."

"Good choice."


	17. Martyrdom

Each step is pained and torture. The pounding in my head is enough to level me. Just by adding on the horrible gash in my thigh, I'm about ready to faint. 

"Ah. There she is!" Don Maroni greets me with his cheerful smile. He even kisses my hand, just like last time. "There's the beauty I remember. Sera, right?"

I nod, focusing on breathing deeply. "Yeah. That's me." 

He slaps my face. Let's just add it to the list of body parts that hurt. "I didn't tell you to speak. I make the rules here." Just as quickly as it appears, his smile fades into an angry frown. "Do you know why you're here?" 

I stay still, clenching my jaw together. The pain is too much. 

"Go ahead. You can answer." 

"No... I- I don't know why." 

We're in another warehouse. I can tell by the blue-white lights in the ceiling. Unlike the one I'm used to seeing, there's no medical equipment, nor bleeding men. It's completely empty, except for Maroni, a few of his guys and I. 

The breeze whips through. It's cold and crisp, like the normal winters in Gotham. I think I can even feel a few snowflakes drift in. I start to shiver. After Lee left, I undressed to a tee-shirt and boyshort underclothing. 

He laughs, like Santa Claus. Maroni looks around to his men, as if asking them why they aren't finding this hilarious. Catching onto it, the guards chuckle around with each other. 

"It's because you're a valuable asset to the Falcone family. Without you, no one gets patched up." Sal grabs onto my face. "Understand that this isn't what I want to do. I'd much rather keep that pretty face as an asset to my personal family."

I nod, closing my eyes. I can't even imagine the horrors I'm about to see. He's either going to kill me quickly, or drag it out. "I understand." Tears form at my eyes. 

I'm not even scared, anymore. No. I've felt fear. This isn't fear. This is sorrow. Butch was right. Jim was right. I should've gotten out of town, just for a little while... Now, my alliance with the family has gotten me into this– this– this bullshit! Screw Falcone! I didn't want to be a part of this anyway!  

He chuckles as he turns away from me. "You know?" Maroni points a finger, thoughtfully. "If the little Penguin were here, he'd be begging for a way out. But you're not. Why is that?" 

I shrug. "Maybe because I've been trapped under a building within the last seventy-two hours. None of this even fazes me." 

He rubs his chin, lost in his own thought. "I'm glad. You know what? I'm glad you're not scared. I think you're just what I need." 

"If you're going to ask me to join the family, you can forget about it." My sentences are spread out over multiple phrases. The pain coursing throughout my body takes my breath at random times. It's like I don't know how to speak properly.

Maroni nearly doubles over in laughter. "No, sweetheart. I'm not going to ask you to join the family. I think I'm going to use you to send a message." 

A message? Meaning I'll actually get out of here alive? I'll take it! By all means, lay it on me, Maroni! 

"What message?" I tilt my head. I think I'm finally gaining some strength and confidence. 

"But, Don Maroni, you've already sent him a message," a henchmen reminds his boss. 

Inwardly, I roll my eyes. 

"Yeah, but you can never send too many," another one pipes. 

Thank you!

Maroni thinks on this. "I think one more be just fine. I'm starting to think Falcone's falling asleep, anyways! What do you say, Sera? Send a message?"

"What do you want me to say?" 

This time, everyone bursts out laughing. My cheeks get hot and red from embarrassment. 

"It's not gonna be that easy, sweetheart." 

Oh no. The realization dawns on me. I nearly start shaking right where I stand, and not because of the cold. No. No. Just kill me, please. Just end it quickly! "What are you going to do?"

"Have you ever heard of a martyr?" He gets in close and whispers. "Have you ever heard of the Disciples? Like in the Bible? They were martyrs." 

"I know of them." 

"Get ready to be a Disciple for the Falcone family." 

Maroni is more stupid than I thought. If he thinks making me a martyr for the Falcone family will do anything to help him, he's crazy! If anything, it'll piss of Penguin and Butch to the point of absolute rage. It'll fuel their fire. Not to mention what Jim will do if he finds out! What is he planning to take advantage of? No... He thinks Falcone will come after Maroni with everything he's got, now. Once they find me and plan their revenge, he'll be prepared. Plus, without their doctor, no one gets healed. 

The pain is too much. I can't take it. I fall to the ground just as Maroni gathers his men around to explain the plan. He turns, noticing the thud on the ground. His look is truly sympathetic. 

"And get her something while you're at it. We can't have her die 'cause of the pain, you know what I'm sayin'?"

"You got it boss." 

"Take her away." 

Before I have any time to object or plead, I feel a sharp needle go into my neck from behind. It's a tranquilizer. I know it's effects. 

No. No. I can't go to sleep! 

I refuse it as long as I can. 

The last sight I see if Maroni, simply watching me lose consciousness. He looks sad, like it's killing him inside to watch me come to this fate. 

***

I wake up, unaware of what has transpired. I think I'm still in a warehouse, but I'm not sure. Oh, I'm so  _groggy_. I'm ready to go back to sleep. Not even blinking can pull me out of my trance.

"Oh, good. She's awake. That means we can begin," a henchman says, off to the side.

Finally, I'm able to peel my eyes open for more than a few seconds. I've gotta wake up! There's a IV plugged into my arm. Above me, there's some unknown substance dripping into my veins. Before I can fully adjust myself, I feel a pain across my stomach.

"I feel bad for hitting a lady." Another guy chimes in.

The first henchman rolls his eyes when he comes into my view. I briefly notice how pretty his eyes are. They're wide, and blue: like the ocean. "We just gotta hurt 'er enough, and then take 'er to the fence! It'll be over in a flash."

The fence? Do I know of any fence? Is it even supposed to mean something? I try and scan my brain for information, but nothing seems to come.

"A-alright." The second one finally agrees and passes the baseball bat in between his hands.

"Hit 'er leg. See? Where that gash is!"

"GAH!!" My screams fill the empty warehouse, and probably a few streets after that. He hits exactly where the metal was stuck in my skin. I can feel each stitch rip through my flesh.

"Good... My turn." The leader smacks me across the face with the back of his hand. It stings, but not nearly as bad as my leg.

I'm almost ready to vomit because of the torture from my thigh. As a matter of fact–

"Get 'er a bucket! Get 'er a bucket!" An empty paint bucket brushes against my leg. Even the tiniest of taps makes pain shoot up my leg like a gunshot. Bile spews from my lips with pained groans, hitting the bucket like a bullseye. I don't know how it makes it! They've tied my hands to the chair, and I have to pull on them to lean over enough.

"Go on! Hit 'er again!" Once again the baseball bat is taken to my legs. Once again, my screams fill the building.

"AGH!!!"

The first leader covers his ears in irritation. "Did we bring anythin' to shut 'er up?!"

Gasps and moans pour from my lips just like vomit and stomach acid.

The other, thicker one shakes his head. "Uh, no... I don't think so, Kade."

The leader, Kade rolls his eyes. "Alright."

This time, his fist comes into contact with my face. It sends puke and blood shoot across the room.

I'm still so groggy! It's like the pain barely has time to kick in before my brain is so foggy that I just feel like falling asleep. Even as I puke and scream, it all sounds distant and far away.

"Now, it's your turn."

The other doesn't wait to take another swing at my legs.

The only music I'm hearing today are the uncanny tunes of my own screams.

They take turns, hitting and slapping and beating my body to a pulp. By the time they think I'm beaten enough, I can't even pull my thoughts together to register what's going on. All I know is that I'm hurting.

And I'm ready to go.

***

"Get 'er into the car."

I'm picked up... I think... And carried to a car I don't recognize. In fact, I don't recognize anything. I have no idea where I am. I can't even remember where I came from.

They throw me into the back seat. Literally, throw. I know, because every little pound of weight that hits on my leg almost sends me over the edge.

I don't bother with sitting up and looking around. I don't have the energy to. I'm just ready to go to sleep. 

"Hey, uh, Kade?"

"Yeah?" The two converse in the front seating.

"Is she allowed to go to sleep?"

The leader shrugs. "He didn't say nothin' about that. I mean, I guess so. She'll be outa our hair soon, anyways. Who cares what she does?"

"Yeah, and uh, Kade?"

"What?!"

"What if uh, Falcone or Penguin find out what we done to her. Do ya think they'll come after us?"

"Nah. They'll be comin' after Maroni. Anyways, the person we need to be worryin' about is Jim Gordon."

"The cop?"

"Yeah," he sniffles. "That's 'is sista."

The brute widens his eyes at me. Like he's just committed a heinous crime– oh wait. "Whadd're we waitin' around here for?! I don't wanna be around when they find her! Drive."

Kade reminds him who's boss by slugging him across the jaw. But he does as his colleague suggests. The fear in Jim gives me a small boost of confidence. And I smirk.

"Whaddya smilin' about, huh?"

"I'm just imagining," I say through many heaves. "The look on your faces when Jim finds you."

He growls and pegs me in the stomach with his baseball bat.

"Don't hit 'er in 'ere! I don't want puke all over the floorboards, ya understand?"

"Sorry, boss."

"You will be if she messes up my car."

The two bicker and fight the rest of the way to whatever fence they mentioned earlier. I'm just glad the attention's taken off of me. I finally get a few minutes of rest. Not that it means anything in the long run.

As soon as we arrive at our destination, they get to work. I can hear them situating things on a chain link fence, but I just don't have the energy to look. If I had to walk right now, I wouldn't be able to do it. I'd have to be carried.

The door pops open. The brisk, chilly air hits my under-clothed body, sending shivers up my back. Like before, I start to shake.

"Alright. Let's move." One of the henchmen wrap their arms around my waist. I can vaguely feel them pulling up on me. "Unless you wanna walk, hold on to my neck."

I do as he says. Before I can even realize what's going on, the brute henchman is carrying me over to a fence.

"Bring 'er 'ere. Come on. Hurry up."

The other heaves from under me. "She isn't exactly the lightest thing I've carried, boss."

"Set 'er up on that. Good. Good."

Zip-ties are tied around my wrists, keeping me locked to the fence. But they've put it too high, and it stretches out my arms, especially when I slump over. It's physically impossible for me to keep up my weight, which means there's a constant tug on my wrists.

Kade gets back in the car and warms himself up. "Paul! Let's go!"

The brute, Paul, takes one last look at me. He sighs, shakes his head and says:

"It's a shame."

Before I can even respond, he jumps into shotgun and rides away with Kade.

What now? They're gone, and I'm left alone in a cold, bitter wasteland. Not to mention, I'm highly underdressed, tied to a random fence, and oh yeah! And severely beaten. As time passes, I try and put pressure on my leg, but I just can't! If I try and stand on it, I feel like passing out.

The pain is just too much. 

Perhaps if I yell, someone around will report it to the police. Jim will end up finding me. 

Glancing around, I realize that there  _is_  no one around, and it's no longer night, like when I left. Clouds block the light of the sun. I'm only assuming it's late in the morning. 

I'm wedged in an alleyway. I have no clue where I am. What's behind me? It's not a building! I can only assume there's a street behind the fence... maybe. 

I can smell the damp, musty smell from the docks. There's a certain water in the air. I know I'm near the boat dock. But isn't most of that are Falcone's? What is Maroni trying to accomplish? Will anyone even think to look for me here?

The frigid air brings me back to where I am. 

"Help me!" 

Every breath aches deep into my lungs, like I'm inhaling a pile of snow and dust. 

"I need help!"

I receive no reply. 

"AH!" Whatever energy I had is now spent on my scream. Maybe, just maybe a few blocks over, someone will call the police, saying they heard a distant scream. If I'm lucky, the GCPD won't blow it off as a repercussion of the gang war. Hopefully, Jim will answer the phone. 

Tears seem to freeze on my cheeks.  

I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to do this anymore. I'm gonna get out of Gotham. I'll leave the city until the war is over. Just get me out of here! 

***

The next however long, is spent by just slipping in and out of consciousness. Every time I awaken, I try and stand on my own, all to no prevail as usual. Blood drips down my arms from my wrists. 

I want to go. I want to leave. 

Desperation sends pangs through my stomach. As soon as Jim comes, I'm buying the first ticket out of this city! _If_. If he finds me. 

It brings me some odd sense of comfort to know that Jim has half of the GCPD looking for me. So does Penguin, probably. 

"Someone help me," I mutter, sleepily. "I need help." 

No answer. My only companion is the wind, who wisps and bends. It slaps and whips against my leg. The cold, frigid air aids me in no way, other than waking me up at different times, just to remind me of the hell I'm standing in. 

It hurts. Every fiber of my being aches and shakes, uncontrollably. 

***

"Oh my."

"Get her down from there! Why are you just standing around?!"

I think I hear voices, but I can't open my eyes to see who the holders are. 

"Help her!" 

No. I'm definitely hearing voices. 

"Oh my God," someone mutters as they're fiddling with a zip-tie. 

"Who did this?!" Another guy demands, cutting the other restraint.

As soon as the zip-ties are cut, I fall face-forward... straight into the arms of... someone. 

"Who do you think did this?!" My holder barks. "This was Don Maroni." He adjusts me in his arms, carrying me bridal style back to a car. "And he will pay for this."

"You're right, boss." A voice agrees. 

The car doors swing open and shut. Who is carrying me? No! No! I don't want to go back to Maroni! I don't want to go back! In my fogginess, I can't even register what exactly they're saying. 

All of the weight and pressure from my own body is relieved. I'm resting against the warmth and embrace of someone. They're holding me close, like a mother holds her weeping child. The smell changes from the docks. This person smells like a too-expensive cologne and a hint of some sort of alcohol I can't name.

"To the hospital, I'm guessing?"

"No. We can't go there."

"But boss–"

"Do you not think Maroni is going to make sure she doesn't make it to the hospital!? I'm guessing they've already set up a perimeter! Jim Gordon will kill both you and I if his sister dies. Drive her to the GCPD, Butch!" 

The man driving sighs, but puts it into gear and speeds away. "You're gonna make it," he whispers up in the front seat. "Just hold on." 

I still feel lost within the constraints of sleep and awake, like I'm suspended into a gray pit. I know what's going on, but I don't. 

The A/C is cranked up to its highest setting, providing a painful, burning heat.

A cold, bony hand eventually rests on my cheek. 

"She's still freezing." 

"Who knows how long she's been there. Of course she's gonna be cold." 

"Sera!" The hand taps on my face. "Sera, can you hear me?" 

Yes! I can! I can hear you! 

"Drive faster, Butch!"

***

"Open the door." 

My carrier bursts through a building. The familiar scent of old books and cigars flood my nose. I know where we are... I think. 

"Where is Jim Gordon?!" 

"I'm here!" Jim sprints over to us. At the first sight of me, he gasps. "Get Lee! Harvey, get Lee! Now! Come on," he asks to have possession over me. My keeper hands me over to my brother. 

I assume Lee runs out. I imagine her brown eyes widening. "Ed! Get some blankets and prepare the morgue."

The morgue? 

Am I really dead? 

If I am, the afterlife is pretty sucky. Every single movement pains me down to my core. 

The squintern peeks out from behind the door. "Y- Yes ma'am. What happened to her?" 

"That's not important. Move!"

My eyes finally open. I'm in the GCPD building. Policemen and women sit, petrified behind their desks. Every eye is trained upon Jim and I. Aside from the commands from Lee and Jim, it's as silent as a graveyard.

"Why didn't you take her to the hospital?!" Jim snaps as he starts to run towards the room. 

My previous holder clenches his jaw. "Don't you think Maroni already has a perimeter set up for her?! This is a message, Jim! It's a warning." 

I can just imagine James pursing his lips into a line from frustration. 

 _'This is why I didn't want her to get involved in this crap!'_. Oh, it's coming out of his lips. I can feel it.

"We'll talk about it later. Lee! What's going on?"

"Bring her in here. Lay her down. Right. Yeah. There." 

I feel a makeshift pillow under my head. Even though there's a blanket covering the metallic table, the cold metal edges brush against my skin. 

"Where did you find her?" 

"By the docks," my former keeper chimes in.

"How did you know where she was?"

"I had every single one of my people out looking for her, Jim." 

It seems to astonish my brother that this gang leader would use all of the resources to his expense to find me. 

"Alright," he nods over me. "Lee, is there anything you can do?"

"There's only so much I can do from here. I don't have all of the right equipment, but I can get an IV going and I can stitch her up. Even after that, she'll need more."

"What if I can get you the things you need?" My keeper asks. 

I recognize him. I know him. I remember him! That's Oswald! It's Oswald. He found me! He and Butch actually found me. I'm safe. 

"Why is she crying?" Butch asks from a corner.

Jim shrugs. "I don't– I don't know."

"Maybe because of the pain," Lee points out to the extremely dense men in the room. "That would be a very good reason."

"I can go get the equipment from the warehouse and bring it here."

Jim shakes his head. "I don't want to do this illegally. We should just take her to a hospital."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Jim," she says, quietly. "I think Maroni will be waiting for you." She turns to Oswald. "Get me the equipment." 

Upon hearing it, Butch and Cobblepot practically run out of the room. 

"You're gonna be okay," Jim promises, pushing my hair out of my face. "You're going to be okay."


	18. Without a Burn

The next time I wake up, Oswald and Butch have returned from the warehouse. Their arms are full of different items, as are the two backpacks over their shoulders.

"Is this enough to fix her?"

Lee peers into the bags. "I think so. The pain meds are key. It's been hell trying to put any sort of pressure on this wound."

She's right. I've been screaming and yelling so much that my voice sounds like I've been smoking for fourty years.

"Just make her better," Butch urges. "I'll make sure no one gets through the front."

He dismisses himself and shuts the door behind him. Through the glass, I can see his heavy frame guarding the door.

Oswald seems taken aback that Butch decides this on his own. It's a pleasent sort of surprised, I believe. I've noticed that when a kind act randomly happens to him, he seems speechless. He stares at the ground and then jumps back into whatever he is doing. In this case, it's watching me.

"How long do you think all of this will take?" Jim finally asks as Lee is preparing the IV.

She shrugs. "There's no telling. I'm surprised she's even conscious after all that."

It's strange. Whenever I'm in so much pain that I feel like dying, I suddenly become the most observant person in the world. In this case, I study the three around me.

Lee's hands are steady as they insert the needle into the crevasse my elbow. Her brows furrow. She even contorts her lips. I'm half expecting her to stick her tongue out in concentration. As soon as it's in, she goes to work. Lee hangs up the bags of fluid and turns to prepare the stitching kit, or whatever she's planning to fix me up with.

Jim watches her carefully from above my head. His blue eyes stare straight at her. I swear there's no other way a girl wants to be looked at. It's a common occurrence with him, isn't it? His eyes are the very best feature about him. They're studying and mysterious. And, they never look away. His hands wring the makeshift pillow nervously as he watches. I can imagine he's bouncing his leg, right now.

I say Jim has the best gaze. He's quickly given a run for his money. When Oswald and I make eye contact, I have to look away. I can't compete with his ever-seeking eyes. Finally, I dare to look back. Now, he's watching Lee work, impatiently, I assume. His eyes haven't faded anymore, though. In fact, this is the bluest green I've seen them since I've noticed their faded appearance in the first place. It's strange, but pleasant. Unlike Jim, he doesn't move at all. It's as if he's scared to even breathe.

"Alright. I've got the morphine ready. I'll give it a few minutes to kick in before I start to work on your leg."

I nod.

The medicine feels like fire through my veins. It messes with my head, making it hurt for only a few seconds... And then I have the privilege to finally be able to relax. I sink back into the pillow, feeling my eyes droop.

Lee sits in a chair, slips on a mask and starts her work. I have to clench my whole face together to keep from crying out. The warehouse doesn't have any numbing medication.

Each insert into my skin sends pain up my leg, like a gunshot. Although, it's not nearly as bad as getting it hit with a bat. This is a healing sort of pain.

Jim scrunches his nose together in disgust. Even so, he doesn't leave the room. He stays, pushing my hair out of my face.

As Lee works, Oswald cringes, but doesn't pull his eyes away from it. It's like he blames himself for the mess. It kinda is his fault, but I don't want him to feel that way. He pushes his chair over to the table and sits back down. When he does so, I outstretch my hand to him.

I hope he understands this isn't a romantic gesture. I'm probably going to squeeze the life out of his fingers.

He grabs onto my hand, and immediately regrets it. "Ow-" Oswald whispers under his breath.

Jim glances over at us.

He tries to drop my hand, but I don't let him.

My brother shoots him a glare before turning back to Lee.

I wince as the last stitch is tied... And then it's over.

"The leg is taken care of. Her forehead injury doesn't look too bad. I won't have to repair any of the stitches from her previous accident. I'm more worried about broken bones, or internal bleeding."

"She has bruises all over her," Oswald points out.

"I know. Those will-"

"I can't get in touch with Falcone," Harvey busts through the door. "I've been trying to reach him through everyone I know, but no one's heard anything from him."

"Then let's go find him."

The two turn their eyes to the man holding my hand.

He shakes his head. "You're not going to find him, because he's doing everything he normally does! He's not changing anything! Falcone is just doing enough to hope this all blows over."

"If that's the case, then why can't I get in touch with him, genius?"

Oswald arches a brow. "When have you ever been able to get in touch with Falcone when he's busy?"

"Never."

If it were me, he'd answer. I'm pretty sure he likes me! I think on it smugly as the boys devise a plan.

"Let's remember that Maroni did this. Falcone's a bad guy, but he's the best bad guy we have right now."

Cobblepot shoots him a glare.

James returns it. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm on your side, Penguin."

"I know you're not," he clarifies smoothly.

Harvey butts in. "What do you suggest then?"

"I think you should let the war play out."

Jim seethes, as if his inability to do anything about the situation stabs him in the heart. Now he knows how I feel. "I have to shut down both of you!"

"Yeah," Harvey thinks on it. "Why isn't Penguin locked up right now?"

"He's here for my sister," he growls.

Harvey bursts out in laughter... Until he realizes that it isn't a joke. "Wait. Wait... You aren't kidding?!" Bullock practically pushes Oswald out of his chair to get close to me. "Listen to me. Listen." He holds onto my hand. "Whatever he's got on you, it's okay. You don't have to do this."

I watch as Oswald nearly breaks into an uncontrolled rage when he stands. But from one moment of eye contact, he breathes deeply, and adjusts his suit.

"Detective Bullock," he begins, smoothly as ever. "We currently aren't  _doing_ anything, but I'm sure Ms. Gordon would appreciate if you don't meddle in her private affairs."

"It's okay," I smile softly at Harvey. The pain meds have me going again. My voice drops to a whisper. "I think he's cute."

He gives me the look.  _The_ look. The look that says:

_'No. No. It's okay, you're on pain meds. I understand... But... Are you crazy? Is this how you really are? Are these your true colors?'_

Instead of saying all that, he just shakes his head and stands.

"What? What'd she say?" Jim was talking to Lee when Harvey and I had our little conversation.

Oswald finishes buttoning his suit with a smug grin.

Before anymore can be said, another body enters the show. "Ms. Thompkins?"

"Yes, Ed?"

"I've found-"

"I know you!" I say, trying to sit up. "You're the guy that found me under the building!"

"Yes, I am," he adjusts his glasses and smiles shyly.

"What's your name?"

By this time, everyone has caught onto my little trip. Oswald's still smirking while Jim and Harvey are having a quiet laughing session.

"Ed, ma'am. Edward Nygma."

"Interesting name," I place my hand on my chin, thoughtfully. "I like it."

"Do you like riddles?"

"Lay your best one on me!"

Oswald rolls his eyes.

"I'm first in Earth, second in Heaven. I appear twice in a week. You only see me once in a year, though I am in the middle of sea. What am I?"

"The letter 'e'!" I answer.

Lee winks at me. "We're proud of you. Now, lay down."

I do as she says. Perhaps it's about time I go to sleep again.

***

"You know what this means, right?" Harvey's voice comes over my ears.

Oswald sighs. "Yes. Yes. I know."

"So what are you going to tell her?" Jim urges.

"I'm going to get her to leave the city."

"No matter-?"

"No matter what it takes." The defeat is apparent in Cobblepot's voice.

By the time I register what's going on, Lee pipes in.

"I don't think it's fair," she says. "You're going to make her leave. You're going to break her heart, Jim!"

"There's where you're wrong," Harvey points out. "Penguin'll be the one to break her heart."

"It's not right."

"She's going to keep getting hurt, Lee!" Jim barks at his girlfriend. "What other option do I have?"

"Uh, tell her the truth?" Oswald asks.

"What good will that do? It'll just make her more determined to stay!"

I blink 'awake'. "What's going on?"

Jim and Harvey nod to Oswald. Lee just sighs and goes back to adjusting the different equipment.

Harvey 'nonchalantly' asks Jim if he'll go with him to get coffee for the crew. Lee decides to tag along.

Oswald shuts his eyes, composing himself. But then he sits in the chair beside my bed. "How are you feeling?"

He asks it so... So blankly. It's like he's managed to wipe off all emotion except for melancholy.

"I'm alright," I say. A pitting feeling hits me in the gut. It's the same feeling when I watch a horror movie. I know the dreaded ending is coming... I just don't know how. "A little whoozy."

"And why is that?"

My stomach is in knots. "Because Maroni kidnapped me to hurt the Falcone family."

"Yeah," he says, simply. Perhaps that's the worst part: the simplicity of it all. "Which is why you need to leave Gotham."

"Why?" I knew it was coming! But even as he says it, it's like I'm completely blindsided. I feel breathless.

"Because you can't stay here. When Maroni learns that you're alive, he'll come after you."

"But won't the-"

"No. The family will not protect you. Please. Just go for a little while. You can come back when it's over."

"Where would I go?"

"Metropolis? I don't know. There are tons of cities in this country, Sera."

"But what about us?"

"We're not a  _thing._ We will never be a  _thing_. Stop pretending it's something it isn't."

I close my eyes. Why does it still hurt so much? I prepared myself for the hit. And yet, I still feel knocked to the ground.

The duo of jerks, and Lee enter back into the room.

"Hey," Harvey says, eyeing Penguin. "How are you feeling?"

The need to slug Harvey and Jim in their jaws is overpowering... But the cold cut from Oswald stops me. "Call Aunt Martha," I tell Jim. "I'm going to get out of Gotham until the war is over."

Jim nods, as if he's surprised. "O-okay. It'll probably take a few days to get preparations. Are you okay with that?"

"I'm fine," I mutter as Penguin slams the door behind him.

"It's going to at least take that long for her to be travel ready." Lee confirms with a bob of her head.

"I'm only leaving because of him. So help me, Jim Gordon," I manage to sit up and glare at him. "If you've put him up to this, you have a dark time ahead of you."

This is it. This is his one chance to confess to me that he's lying. Take it.

Instead, he shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Sera."

***

People come and go throughout the day. Lee is the person I see the most. She changes out the fluids, checks on my bruises and revives the pain medication when she needs to.

Jim runs in, between hopping off to different locations for cases. Harvey does the same thing.

Even Ed comes in to check up on me and exhange riddles, once again.

Finally, night approaches. No one expects me to actually go home. The Captain approves of Jim, Harvey, Lee and the remaining Falcone clan setting up a camp. Pallets and cots are laid out in the GCPD building.

Like every other time, as soon as my head hits the pillow, I fall asleep.

It's an easy, peaceful sleep. I see myself in a bed, rather than on a table. The warmest blankets are wrapped around me. Only the softest pillows are propped under my head. Something eventually disturbs that slumber. I'm pulled from the warmth and comfort.

Something is drawing me out of my dream. I'm awake now, but I don't risk opening my eyes. If I open them now, I'll be faced with a monster only found within the endless shadows of the night... Or worse. I anxiously wait for the monster to attack.

Instead, a kiss is tenderly placed upon my head. Now, I will not  _dare_  to look until I know the being is out of the room. I don't  _want_  to know who it is!! I try to even out my breathing, showing that I'm still asleep, but with the ever-present nervousness, it's hard to do. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest, I feel like it's about to bounce through my body.

"Go back to sleep," the voice says in my ear.

I don't acknowledge ever hearing it. The man walks out of the door and shuts it's quietly.

The lingering scent of his cologne tells me who it was... But I just wish it wasn't true.

***

I don't want to leave, anymore. They found me. They're taking care of me. I'll be okay! As long as I stay at Oswald's, I'll be alright.

"Aunt Martha just got back with me. She says she'll be expecting you in a little less than a week."

I nod, refusing to answer. I don't believe I owe him one.

"I'll take care of your train ticket."

"I don't  _need_  you to pay for my train ticket," I snap, standing with my crutches. "I'm not some broken little girl you need to take care of."

"Fine!" He raises his hands. "You can pay for it."

"Damn right." I struggle to get the door open, but I eventually get it to work with me.

"Sera," Jim says, catching me before I'm out of earshot. "I'm sorry."

The door slams shut behind me.


	19. Distant Family

Harvey wraps his arms around me. "Take care, sister."

"I will," I say, putting on a smile.

People from the GCPD give me their best wishes as Jim tries to push me out of the building. It all seems like a dream, like an unpleasant, never-ending facade of euphoria and misunderstanding.

He comes along with the party of Jim, Lee and myself. "Don't lose hope."

"Take your own advice."

It seems to take him aback. Even though we aren't the best of pals, I'm still able to read him. Call it a gift of sorts.

Right before I can get into my car, another vehicle pulls up. Butch Gilzean steps out of the driver side. He holds a small, blue wrapped gift.

"This is for you... from the boss." He says everything officially, like he's trying to rid himself of the emotions ever-plaguing his brain.

I take it and slip it into the pocket of my coat. "Thanks... I'll miss you."

Butch sighs, no longer caring about his emotional health. He hugs me, nearly knocking me off of my crutches. "I'll miss you too... So will he. He's just so consumed with-"

"I know," I smile faintly. "I know."

He's still visibly upset as we get into the car and drive away. I have no doubt that Penguin will make things a living hell for him, now that I'm not there. I can't even imagine what sort of toll it will have on his boss. He'll be frustrated and quick-tempered. He'll bury himself into his planning.

And what about Falcone? What does he think? Is he mad that I'm leaving the city? Does he even care?

All the way to the train station, Lee gives me specific instructions. I'm supposed to find some trauma counselor and get going with that. I need to redress my wounds every other day or so. I should look for jobs in Metropolis, should the war go on longer than a few weeks or so. She instructs me to call every day and update her on my condition.

It all goes in one ear and out the other. I force myself to get lost within the city, one more time.

When we arrive, Jim takes up my one suitcase and guides us over to the proper place. As soon as we get there, the big bad is waiting on a bench.

"How did you know we'd be here?"

"Penguin told me."

"Oh," Jim says, still not relaxing. "We need to talk about the wa-"

"And we will, but not right now. I'm here for her."

Jim nods and starts to load my things up on the train. He gives the attendant my ticket and sorts out a few of the minor details. He explains my condition.

"How are you feeling, my dear?"

I shrug. "I'm alright."

He puts an arm around my shoulder. "I can't even fathom going through anything you have within the last couple of days."

"Not many can. I just feel so bad for leaving the family. With the war going on, there will be so much bloodshed. Bloodshed I could help fix... y'know?"

"There is nothing you can do about that. When there is war, there will always be death. You've done so much more than you've needed to. It's been a pleasure."

I can't believe he's even saying this! "But, Don Falcone, what will happen to the–"

"We already have another nurse in training. We're telling him that his boss is on a hiatus. When the war is over, you may return to work, or you may not. It's up to you, Sera."

I'm free. I'm free of the ties that have held me so long to the dark side. There is nothing to keep me here. All of my chains are broken. I am relieved of duty for as long as I want to be.

The only thing I know to do is thank him... for everything. He promises to keep paying for my mother's care, free of favors.

"I'll see you when I see you." Lee says, hugging me for the last time.

Jim finally finishes explaining the details to my car attendant.

The old man agrees to everything, of course.

"Get trauma counseling. There are plenty of people in Metropolis that I can recommend! Don't forget to take your medicine! Call us!" She calls in between people bustling around the gate.

"Yes, yes! She knows, Lee." Jim shouts back to her through the crowd. "Listen, Sera,"

"You don't have to say anything, Jim. I know you just want what's best for me."

"I think we all want what's best for you, Sera," the emotion that's rushing through him- whatever it is, it's hard for him to express. It's raw and untamed. "I think that's why Penguin is okay with letting you go. It's why we all are."

I nod, feeling tears swell up into my eyes.

"This city needs you," he says, rubbing his nose. "It just can't take care of you right now."

A streak of hot, steamy moisture trickles down my cheek. My brother wraps me up into his arms, hugging me tightly. It suddenly all becomes clear to me. He doesn't want me to leave. I'm his only close family right now. It's killing him to watch me ride away. But he wants me to survive. This is the only way to do it.

He's doing what he believes is right.

Isn't that what everyone's just trying to do?

"I believe you should board now, ma'am," the attendant interrupts our silence. "The train will be leaving the station soon."

I thank him and release my brother.

"You better go now."

"I am." Climbing up the stairs with my crutches is a challenge, but I manage. "Love you, Jim."

"Love you too. I'll see you again. Call me when you get there."

I chuckle, "Sure, mother."

He rolls his eyes, and I hobble over to my car.

"Right here, ma'am. I hope you make yourself comfortable. It'll be a bit of a trip to Metropolis. My name is Carl Johnson. If you need anything, I'll be just in that booth ahead of ya."

"Thank you, sir," Smiling at the old man, I set down my crutches and sit in the booth. The last thing I want is to have to deal with crowded spaces and crying children, so I bought one of the best cars that the station offered. Two red booths face each other. A gray table sits in the middle. This booth is meant for a family, but today, it'll just have me. "Can you close the doors behind you? I would certainly appreciate it." I'm finding it hard to be polite, but I'm certainly trying my best.

"Of course, ma'am. Enjoy your ride."

I thank him and he leaves. I gaze out of the window at all of the bustling people. Jim, Lee and Falcone stand around talking to one another. Jim is nodding as Falcone is explaining something to him. Lee frankly looks bored. I manage to catch her eye as the train pulls away.

We wave to each other... and then I lose sight of all of them.

I watch the skyline of Gotham disappear from my sight. I feel like a traitor as different horizons take it's place. The same pitting feeling hits my stomach just like when Penguin delivered the news. Penguin!

The gift is still in my pocket. Whipping it out, I pull off the black bow hurriedly. But just as I'm about to open it, I stop myself.

Do I really want to see it? What will be in it? A letter? A gift? An empty promise? The possibilities are endless. What if it's nothing and it's just some cruel trick?

Pushing my thoughts aside, I open the gift and peer inside. There's a letter. The note is written on parchment paper. It reads:

_Something to remember me by._

What does he mean? I set down the note and notice the long bronze chain; it's a necklace. The charm is a vintage locket. I fiddle around with it and finally get the circular device to open. Inside is a small painting of an Emperor Penguin. It's colored with darker tones, which makes it just the more beautiful.

It's long chain hangs around my neck. The locket ends up right above my heart.

***

"Miss?" Carl Johnson knocks on the sliding doors of the booth. "Can I get you anything?"

"You can come in, sir."

He pokes his head through. "I didn't know if you were sleepin'. I didn't mean to disturb you. Can I get you anything? A pop, perhaps?"

"Just water."

"I'll get right on it." He smiles under his white mustache and disappears into a room across from my car.

He returns with a bottle of water and a napkin. "We're only an hour or two away from Metropolis."

"Great," I say, opening up the water. "Do you have a family, Mr. Johnson?"

I have no clue what gets me to ask that. It just seems like a good, honest question. Older people have the most wisdom and experience, right? Maybe he can help me on my discomfort and depression.

He furrows his brows together, like he's wondering why I've even asked it. "I do," he finally says. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just curious."

"Yeah, well I have a wife and daughter. They both live in Gotham."

I chuckle. "How do you even dare to leave, then?"

"Well, I always know that I'll return and so do they. They're my family, after all."

It hits me hard across the chest. I will return. I will. It may be in a week, it may be in a couple of months... I  _will_  see them again.

***

We finally arrive in Metropolis in the early afternoon. Carl Johnson helps me get my luggage to my aunt and her son, who are both waiting at the gate.

"Thank you so much for your help." I tell him.

"Of course. You have a good day, ma'am."

"Oh! Sera! You look so beautiful!" Aunt Martha hugs me tightly- too tightly for my comfort.

"Can't breathe. Can't-"

"Momma!" The little boy pulls on his mother's coat.

Realizing what she's doing she releases me. Air is such a nice privilege.

Aunt Martha dons a thick fur coat, leggings and boots. Her dark brown, long hair is put up in a clean bun. Her greyish eyes are warm and welcoming... just like my father's.

Her son reminds me so much of my father when he was a boy.

"To you as well," I compliment her beauty. It's true. I'm not just being polite. My aunt Martha is one of the most beautiful people I've ever met. She has a slender figure with the most gorgeous features. Of course, she has to color her hair now, to keep the greyness from slipping in, but it's still beautiful. "Who's this big guy?"

She's my father's younger sister. Actually, she couldn't make it to my dad's funeral because she was in labor with her son.

"Oh! You haven't met him yet," she hoists the boy up on her waist. "This is Matthew! Say hi to your cousin!"

The young boys waves shyly back at me. "What's your name?" His words are still new and naive. It's precious.

"I'm Sera."

"It's nice to meet you." He smiles and put his head to his mother's chest.

I laugh softly at the boy and turn my attention back to Martha. She picks up my bag with her free hand. "What are we waiting around here for? Let's get you off of that leg!"

Martha navigates through the bigger, more complex train station of Metropolis. The air is different here. It's not as fresh as it is in Gotham, which is saying something. Perhaps it's that, or I'm just biased.

On the way to her house, she talks about her life, her husband and her son. She currently works at a hotel near the center of the city. Apparently, it's the main joint for celebrities. She tells me all the stories about the big-shot actors and singers. Her husband, Mark, is a reporter for the Daily Planet. Matthew's just started Kindergarten.

In return, I tell her about Jim and his police work. Mother's still rough and in a coma, but I believe she'll get better soon... I actually don't believe it, but I lie to her, anyways. I tell her about Lee and how she's doing.

"So, how did your leg come to look like that? I know it's none of my business, but you have bruises all over you, girlfriend."

"Oh yeah..." I try to come up with an excuse. "Well, a building exploded and I was caught under it."

"Oh my God!" She gasps, alarming Matthew. "It's okay, baby. Go back to sleep."

He does as he's told.

She shakes her head, turning down a corner. "How did that happen?"

"There's a gang war going on. It was just a wrong place, wrong time thing."

"That's horrible." Covering her mouth, she shakes her head again. Tears even swell at her eyes. I don't understand it. I haven't even talked to her in years, and she's brought to tears over my well-being. "Honey, I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine going through something like that. I'm so sorry. No wonder you wanted a break from that place."

"It's really alright. I'm better now." Am I really? The nightmares haven't stopped. I obsess about the fact that at any time a building could collapse and I could be trapped. But it's only been a few days since then. A lot has happened. I haven't had the time to get over it. I haven't caught a break.

I leave the part out about Maroni... and the fact that I was in the gang. She doesn't need to know about any of that. It'll just break her heart.

***

"I'm sorry! You kinda caught us at a bad time," she explains of the mess and boxes strewn around her house. "We're actually moving soon!"

It's a struggle to crutch through the mess. I often slip and put pressure on my leg to keep myself steady. "Where are you moving to?"

"The outskirts of Gotham, actually. Metropolis is getting too expensive."

"I hear that."

Their house is a one-story two-bedroom tiny little thing. In Gotham, it would be considered an apartment. It's nice though. Martha is a fantastic interior designer, even if she doesn't know it. Her colors are grey and black with a hint of white here and there. It's simple, but gorgeous.

"We can pull out the couch to make you a bed. I'm sorry. It's not much, but it's what we've got."

"I'm not complaining," I smile and help her pull out the bed, as much as I can. There's only so much I can do on crutches, and I hate it. I feel like I can't do anything by myself. "Thank you for letting me into your home."

"It's certainly no problem. You are family, anyways."

She's right. I've been feeling like Jim and I were always on our own for so long, that I forgot about these wonderful people.

"Well, I still appreciate it. It was last minute."

She waves it off. Finally, I get to sit down and actually prop up my throbbing leg. I quickly take a pain pill and wait for it's effects to kick in. Martha switches on the TV to a kids show for Matthew and sits beside me.

"So what are you actually up to these days? You didn't go into too much detail in the car. Do you have a boyfriend?"

I evade her last question. "I do a few things, actually. I'm a nurse, yes. I'm also on medical standby for a club, sometimes."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means I chill out at a club and get free drinks. If someone gets hurt, I let my team know, and we take them to the hospital." I make up the job description on the spot.

"Do they not have security?"

"It's not the kind of security you'd want to mess around with," I inform. "It's in the middle of the bad part of Gotham."

"Oh..."

"Yeah," I shrug it off. "It's alright. I like it. They pay me a chunk. Certainly more than the hospital. Anyways, I got to meet some cool people."

"Yeah! You never answered my question! Do you have a boyfriend? Is there anyone you're seeing?"

Just like every other member of my family, Martha obviously like gossip. My mother did, Jim went through his phase, and even my father liked to know about all of my friends and their boyfriends.

"I did."

"What was his name?"

"Um, it was Oswald." It pains me to even say his name. I wish I didn't have to. "He was the owner of the club I worked at."

"Oooh~" She waggles her eyebrows. "What does he look like?"

"He isn't very tall," I smirk. "Perhaps Jim's height? Maybe a little shorter-"

"What about his eyes?" Martha rests her chin in her hands. "I'm not trying to pry. I just love hearing about these things."

"It's no problem," I laugh. In fact, it's actually helping me feel better. Talking about the Penguin is letting me get out so many things that Jim never would've listened to. "His eyes are green: a light green. They were once blue, but they've faded- I don't know how or why, but they used to be a bright, crystal blue."

"They sound gorgeous."

"They are. Oh, his hair is as dark as the night. I can't exactly explain the style he has it in. A part of it lays straight in front of his left eye. The back is usually spiked up. It's weird, but I like it."

"Please tell me he doesn't wear guyliner."

"No," a chuckle escapes my lips. "No, he doesn't."

"Good. Tell me more."

"Um... he's pale. Like, paler than me pale. And he always wears suits. In fact, I can't tell you a time where I haven't seen him in anything other than a suit."

Her brows knit together as she tries to imagine what he looks like. "He sounds weird. What does his voice sound like?"

"He speaks very smoothly; his sentences flow like a river, y'know? Oswald has this persuasion in his voice. I bet he's practiced talking into his mirror... for hours. That's how easily his words piece together."

"Does he have a deep voice?"

"Not really. But it doesn't even matter to me."

"So he's a wordsmith, basically."

"Yeah," I shrug. "You could say that."

"Be careful of those kinds of men, Sera," Martha stands and walks over to the kitchen. My eyes follow her. When she walks behind the couch, I adjust to watch her. She pulls out some meat from the freezer. "Men like that can lure you into anything and everything."

"It doesn't even matter now," I respond, bitterly. "We weren't a thing... and we'll never be a  _thing_."


	20. What Used to Be

Martha's front swings open. Mark steps through the door and removes his hat. 

"Hello!" He waves to me. Matthew runs into his arms. "Hello to you!" 

The two boys play around with each other as I help my aunt set the table. Before any of us can actually get there, my phone rings in my pocket. 

"Oh. It's Lee. I've gotta get this real quick." 

"Of course, of course." Martha waves me off. Her husband comes and places a kiss on her head. 

For a moment, I just have to watch. Their tenderness is something I haven't seen in quite a long time. Not even Jim is this expressive towards Lee... especially not in a professional place. Not that her home is professional, but if there was a stranger in our house, he would not be loving on her so much. 

The buzzing phone brings me back to where I am. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey, Sera. How's it going there?"

"It's good," I say as I close the back door behind me. They don't have a big backyard, like Jim and I. It's small, and all of the grass is dead. I sit on the porch swing. "How's it there?" 

"Same ol', same ol'. What's it like in Metropolis?" 

I shrug, as if she can see me. "It'll do... but it's not home, y'know?"

"Did she take you downtown?"

"Nah. We just caught up today. And yes, I propped up my leg."

" _Good_! Hey, Jim. It's Sera. Do you want to talk to her?"

Jim takes the phone. "Hey. How are you?"

"I'm fine," I remark, bitterly. Even though I know he's trying to do the right thing, he didn't have to lie to me about it. I'm still not quite over that yet.  "And you?" 

"Good. Good. Working on calming down the war. Same as always." 

"Are you working right now?" 

"Not really. It's just business as usual." 

"Ah... Have you heard anything from Penguin?" 

He stops for a minute. "You've never called him Penguin before." 

"Yeah, well I'm pissed off. Have you heard anything from him?" 

"No. No I haven't. Don't you think I would tell you if I had?" His voice sounds skeptical, like he doesn't understand why I don't believe a word he says. 

And for the record, I  _don't_  believe him. "If it was convenient. Look, I'm not an idiot, Jim." I hang up the phone before Jim has the chance to respond. 

I sit still for a moment. The silence here is too loud. Gotham has the normal buzz of a crying city. Metropolis' song is just too loud. There's nothing I can do to shut down the loud stomps of feet, nor calm down cries and shouts. I thought Gotham was a screaming town. Metropolis gives it a run for its money. 

***

"So how was your day?" 

We make light conversation as we eat the spaghetti Martha made earlier. It's a quiet, simple night. Mark talks a little bit about his work. It's driving him crazy, apparently. He wants to be done with the reporter business, which is why he's planning to move to Gotham. When he gets there, he'll be able to get a better job as an editor. Martha's going to switch hotels. Apparently she works for  a chain hotel company. They're going to give her the job, no questions asked. They've even looked at schools for Matthew. 

Their life sounds really, really good. It's a peaceful, mundane life, but there's so much content within the family. 

The utter joy in her eyes when they meet her husband's is unpronounceable. It's as if there's no place in the world she so wants to be. She's just happy to be in his arms every night. 

In his smile is a certain protectiveness that he has over his family. He treasures them more than anything else this world could possibly offer him. 

It's true contentment. 

I remember feeling that way one night. Dad was still alive, and Jim wasn't so responsible. He had just scored the winning touchdown at the homecoming game. I'd just led the final cheer. As we drove home, dad rolled down the windows and blasted our favorite song as loud as he could through the neighborhoods. We were fist-pumping, screaming at the top of our lungs, and just careless. 

We didn't care that there was a bloody war going on right outside of the windows. We couldn't have cared less that people were dying. 

We were together. And I wanted nothing more than that. I was satisfied with every single thing in the universe. 

***

The family goes to bed, and I am left to my own devices. Having already been a little worn down from the trip, I'm eager to go to bed. Just as my head is hitting the pillow, Matthew appears at the doorway. 

"Hey, little man. Are you okay?" 

The boy remains silent until he reaches the edge of the pull-out bed. "Can I sleep with you?"

"Why?" I sit up, making room for him. "Can't you go to your parents' bed?" 

"Their door is closed. I'm not supposed to go in there when the door is closed." 

Ah. Well, that makes sense.  _Definitely_. 

"Oh... Okay then. Climb up."

The five year old boy clambers into the bed and feels around for a pillow. He adjusts his rocket ship pajamas and finally lays down. 

"Did you have a nightmare or something?" 

"Yeah..." His bright blue eyes scan the darkness for monsters or ghosts. "I did." 

"Well, y'know, when I was little, I always felt better after I told someone about my dream," I prop up on my side to face him. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

He shakes his head, bringing his stuffed bear to his chest. 

"That's okay. You don't have to tell me." I roll back over on my back. Laying on my side hurts my leg. 

After a few minutes of silence he speaks. 

"Do you have bad dreams?" 

The question catches me off guard. In this time of fear, he wants to know if _I_ have nightmares. Any other person would be ranting about their own. 

 Now, do I tell him the truth? Yeah, I have pretty horrible nightmares. Usually ones where I'm getting crushed to death. How about you, kid? 

"I do. A lot."

"What are they about?" 

I chuckle. "Why do you want to know?" 

"You just said that when you tell people about your dreams, you feel better." 

"Oh well," I try and think up some excuse other than they're too brutal to explain to a child. "They're pretty bad. Not even my brother knows about them." 

"Not even my momma?" He sits up, like I'm telling him a scary story. 

I shake my head. "Not even her. But it's not good. You should always telling people about what's going on. I'm trying to be better about it." 

He should learn that now. If he just tells his family the truth– no questions asked, he won't end up like the scum of Gotham. Not everyone that lies to their parents ends up on the streets, no. But there are worse things than ending up on the streets.

"Oh, I tell her everything!" He promises. "Always."

"Good... Now I can't keep talking about this for too much longer. I need to sleep, little man."

"Okay," he says, mid-yawn. "I have school tomorrow, anyways." 

"That's right..." His yawn is contagious. "G'night." 

"Nighty night."

***

The next week passes slowly. So slowly, in fact, that I sometimes forget that I've only been here for a few days. Each day feels like a month. 

I spend most of my time alone. Mark's gone for work before any of us wake up. Matthew's in school, and due to the lack of money in the family, Martha wants to bring in every penny they have for the move. She leaves for work shortly after dropping off Matthew at school. 

Instead of brooding all day, I try and take it in stride. I rest up, let me leg heal, and think about the things I don't want to. The quiet allows me to muse over the whole Oswald situation. To me, it's only a  _little_  different than Jim's. I know that he's just trying to protect me, but he didn't have to go along with James' plan. The necklace lets me know that he still cares, but it doesn't make up for the lie. 

Lee, Jim and I have our conversations. Each time, the war seems to be getting worse and worse. I only hope that the build-up will lead to an ending point.  My resentment towards Jim still doesn't let up. The fact that he's lied to me still just gets under my skin. I've even asked about Penguin. Apparently, he still hasn't heard anything. I don't believe it. 

Even so, it's refreshing to be away from it for a little while. I'm reassured in the fact that nothing about Gotham will change. 

"Hello?" I put the phone to my ear. 

"Hey. Is this Sera?" I know this voice. It's Rachel's voice! It's refreshing to hear a different voice other than the sound of the TV.

"Yeah! Um, Rachel?" 

"Yeah. Look, you need to come to the hospital, ASAP."

"Why?" 

Her voice sounds concerned. Even within the few short weeks of working with her, she never was a typically nervous person. It sets off alarms in my head. 

"Your mother's condition is failing. We've had to put her on life support. Her brain functions have stopped." 

For a solid few moments, I feel as though I can't breathe. Just a moment ago, she was okay. The family was neatly pieced together and we'd be  _okay_. Now, all of it is in question.

"H-Have you contacted Jim?" My voice is just a whisper. 

"No. I haven't," she informs. "He's next on our calling list." 

"I'll just talk to him myself. It's okay. You don't need to do anything." 

Rachel sighs through the phone. "I'm sorry about all of this, Sera. When can you get to the hospital to go over the details?"

"I'm not even in Gotham, Rachel!" Exclaiming, I stand. It's only been a week. My leg hasn't fully healed up yet. Pain shoots up my thigh. "Gah–" 

"Are you okay?!" 

That's right. She doesn't know. She doesn't know anything about my life anymore. I couldn't tell her, anyways. If she finds out that I was operated on– illegally, she'll have to go to someone. Would it matter? Half of the GCPD is in with the gangs, anyway! 

"I'm fine! I'm in Metropolis visiting family. I'll call Jim and he'll get in touch with you." 

"Okay..." She doesn't sound convinced. I just don't have the energy to cook up another lie to her. That's all our friendship consists of anyways! Do I even have the right to call it a friendship anymore? "I'm very sorry, Sera." 

"Thanks." I hang up and quickly dial another number. "Lee, is Jim around?" 

"This is me," Jim says. "Why? What do you need?" 

"Rachel just called me."

"Who's that?" 

Inwardly, I growl. I should've just asked for Lee. "She works in the hospital. She just called me, saying that mom's lost all activity in her brain. They've had to put her on life support." 

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. I imagine he's just concentrating on taking it all in and calming himself. "What does she need?" 

"She needs us to get to the GCH and go over the details." 

"What does that mean, Sera?" Jim's getting agitated. I know just know it. He's pursing his lips into a line in frustration. 

I can't say that I'm not getting the exact same way. "That means we have to decide on whether or not we want to leave her on life support, or take her off of it." 

"I am hours away from the city following a lead! I can't just turn around!"

"You  _better_  go take care of it when you get back." 

He hangs up the phone and I'm left in a bitter, cold quiet. Even the normal sounds of Metropolis seem to shy away at the anger in my voice. 

This can't go on. My mother is practically dead and Jim is out doing who knows what. 

With the best of my ability, I pack up my bags and call the train station. I let them know ahead of time that I'll be at the station tomorrow, and that I'd like to reserve a ticket to Gotham. 

When I explain things (as vaguely as possible) to my aunt and her family, they seem supportive. 

"We just want you to be happy," Martha says. 

Mark agrees with a nod. "If you need to take care of your mother, then you need to take care of your mother." 

I need to make sure that mother is the only reason I'm returning. I can't let Jim nor Penguin think that I'm coming back for either of them. 

"Hey, Lee." 

"What's going on? Jim told me about your mother." 

"Did he end up going to the hospital?" 

"Yeah," she says, chopping up something. I assume it's dinner for the two. "He decided to keep her on life support until you return." 

"Well, good thing I'm coming back tomorrow." 

"Whoa, what?" Lee stops her cutting. "Is that the smartest thing to do? How long have you been gone?"

"A week, tomorrow." 

She sighs. "Are you sure about this?"

Maybe I  _am_  overreacting... But what am I supposed to do? I'm sure James didn't go to the hospital until he was coaxed by Lee. He's never liked to deal with those kinds of affairs. He doesn't like dealing with his pain. That much has been obvious.

"I am... Falcone doesn't have to know that I'm back. Heck, Oswald doesn't even have to know. I'll stay quiet, at least until the war's over." 

Lee thinks it over. "I'm actually starting to think it may be a good idea. Do you want me to tell Jim?" 

"Go ahead," I say. "I'll be in Gotham around three tomorrow. Can you come get me?" 

"Yeah, sure..." She stops for a minute. "Jim's been through alot, Sera... They found the Ogre." 

I've completely forgotten about him! Over the last week or so, he's been the least of my problems. "Did they kill him?" 

"Yes, they did... But he kidnapped Barbara, thinking she and Jim were still dating." 

It's been forever since I've heard that name. I just assumed she got out of Gotham and stayed there. "Is she okay!? Did he kill her?!" 

"No, no. She's alive.. but she's been through quite a lot. I'm worried for her psyche. Anyways, I'm meeting her for some counseling tomorrow night." 

"Do you think she'll be okay?" 

"I don't know. I certainly hope so." 

***

After saying goodbye and goodnight to Mark, the family goes to bed. I'm left in a brief, dark silence before Matthew's silhouette appears at the doorway, once again. 

"Hello," I tell him. "Am I getting a bed buddy again?"

The boy laughs and hops up on the bed.

"So what is the issue tonight? Nightmare? Monster under your bed?" 

"No. I just can't sleep." 

"Well maybe I can help you out." I make room for him on the pull-out bed. 

He lays on the pillow beside mine, just like last time. "Why are you going away?" 

"My mommy's really sick," I explain it the best I can. "I need to go back and take care of her." 

"Then what are you waitin' around here for?! Go see her!" 

A chuckle escapes my lips. "I can't just walk back to my house! I have to take a train." 

"And in a few weeks, we'll be able to see you! Mommy says that I'll be going to a big boy kindergarten." 

"You will be," I say, laying over onto my stomach. "Gotham is a town of opportunity, Matt."

He yawns, getting sleepy. "What does 'oppronudity' mean?" 

 "Opportunity," yet another laugh leaves my lips. "It means chances."

"Gotham sounds like a really nice place." 

Well, depending on the way it's looked at, it can be... but mostly, it's a city of darkness. That much is true, throughout everything. Jim left thinking it, and then came back, oblivious to the true nature of the town. It's a mistake no one can afford to make. Gotham is a city of survival of the fittest. 

"It is, little man. It is."  


	21. New King in Town

"Oh, dear. I hope things start to work out for you." Aunt Martha wraps her arms around my neck one last time.

"I'm sure the will," I respond, smiling softly. "I'm sure."

"It's only a shame you have to go back to all of that chaos," she shakes her head. "I can't wait to see you more often."

"I feel exactly the same way. Tell Matthew I said goodbye, will you?"

"Certainly. Now go on. I don't want you to miss the train."

The car attendant helps me load up my things and get situated. Just as I'm sitting down, Jim calls.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm coming back! I need to be there in case something happens to mom."

There's a clear sound of defeat in his voice. "Just please tell me you're not going to go back to Falcone?"

"I'm not," I promise, resting a hand on my locket from Oswald. Going back to the family is blatant suicide. I don't  _want_  to be in the family anymore. Falcone already believes I'm out, anyways. "I'm not going back to them, anyways. Not unless Falcone makes me."

"Good. The council has changed their vote. Maroni has their support now," he sighs into the speaker. "Maybe when you get here, we can arrange some way of having protection on you at all times."

"Wait, they've actually changed their vote?!"

"Yeah. It's not good, here. Maroni's too much of a hot-head to run the city."

"You're tellin' me..."

"Right. Like I needed to remind you of that. Anyways, I've got to get to work. I'll see you when you get here."

The placid nature of his voice sends chills down my spine. It's terrifying. Jim is very capable of letting me know when he's pissed off. After his one sentence of defeat, he sounds fine. That is scarier than his anger.

"Sure, Jim. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"You just seem really calm..."

"Well, I kinda need to be right now. I'll talk to you later."

Although Jim doesn't tell me what he needs to be calm for, I automatically assume it's the worst. Maybe Maroni's killed Falcone. What if the Falcone family is falling apart? Perhaps Maroni finally killed off the Penguin. Questions endlessly plague my head all the way back to Gotham. I find myself unable to enjoy the scenic view of the ride, because of the worries that keep me awake at night.

And what about my mother? The guilt parades through my chest. I can't believe I even left her in the first place! How could I have done something so selfish?! Oswald wouldn't have left his mother! Why did I leave mine?!

There are so many things that are just wrong about my departure. But, I suppose I'm glad I've had this break. My leg is doing better, and my head feels much clearer than when I left Gotham.

I've been able to rationalize why Maroni did what did to me; why Penguin started the war. He wants to gain control. He's put his career ahead of me, and that's okay.

I'm going back to Gotham... And things are going to be different. They have to be.

* * *

 

"How was your trip?" Lee hugs me and picks up my bag.

"It was fine. Quiet, but that's not always a bad thing."

I must admit, it is good to see her. When I first met her, I wasn't sure if she was a good match for Jim. I've been proven wrong. Jim and Leslie are a wonderful pair. She helps him be better, and he needs that.

"I hear that. Jim will come by the house after work. I gotta get to Barbara's," she sets the bags in the back of her car. "Ready?"

Gotham's pulse and beat sync in with the pounding of my heart beat. This is where I belong, and there is no place like home.

"Yeah, I'm ready." After setting my crutches in the back seat, I get into shotgun. "Thanks for doing this, Lee."

"It's no problem."

On the way back, she explains what happened with the Ogre, and what she knows about Barbara's condition– which is apparently not too much. I tell her a little bit about our family, and how they're moving to Gotham. She's excited to meet them, I think.

As soon as I hobble into the house, Lee leaves. She's already late for Barb's. Jim's supposed to get off of work around five and head back to the house.

I unpack my things and soak back in the new aroma of my house. I'm doubting that Jim's been here at all during the week. It smells like old boxes and books. The windows and baseboards are dusty, and in need of cleaning. After mother was put into the living facility, I continued the tradition of washing the baseboards every weekend. Time just has a way of getting away from us, I suppose.

* * *

 

Seven o'clock rolls around and there's no sign of Jim. Perhaps he's just working late, but he would've called me. He always does that. Just as I'm about to call, a knock comes at my door. James would've called if he was on his way home.

Afraid that it's one of Maroni's, I answer it with a baseball bat.

"Hello?" I lean the crutches against a wall and grip the weapon in my hands.

"Whoa!" Butch raises his hands. "It's just me. Thank God you're here."

"Butch!" I drop the bat and hug him. "Hey! What're you doing here?"

"They're in trouble." Sweat drips down his brow. His head is a bright red, like he's been straining or something. Even now, his hands wring nervously together. And he's seemed to adopt Tourette's syndrome.

"Who? Who, Butch?" I release him, growing concerned. Using my crutches once again, I grab my coat. 

He wipes his brow, still very confused. "Fish! Wait, no. Fish is back in town. She has Jim and Cobblepot. I came to tell you, because.... Because..." It's like he can't get the words out. This is it. All of my predictions about his service are right. It's proven. Butch has been brainwashed.

"Because?" I'm starting to grow wary of him. What if he's broken out of his conditioning and wants to get back at Penguin by hurting me?! "Butch, talk to me!"

"Because I don't know if I can do it!" He cries it out, like it pains him deep within his chest. "I don't know if I'll be able to save her OR him!"

I speak slowly to calm his spirit. He's all excited and riled up. That is not good– not if I'm thinking of the situation correctly. "Where are they Butch?"

"By the docks. In one of Falcone's old warehouses that no one knows about." Butch looks like he's about to crack.

"You need medical attention... Go to a hospital."

He chuckles, momentarily gaining his composure. "Yeah, right!"

"Then go lay down or something. How did you get away? Didn't she capture you too?"

He shakes his head. "No, no. I told her that I was going to lie down... And I did, but I couldn't remember if you had even left or not. You may be the only one to sort things out."

"Me?!" How can it even be possible? I barely know Fish Mooney, and everyone else knows that I'm completely biased! "I'm sorry, Butch. But I can not handle this... Where is Falcone?!"

"She has him too," he starts to pace. "And Bullock. She's calling up Maroni to get her territories back."

I hate the gang world. It's hierarchy is confusing and hard to keep up with.

"Is Falcone willing to hash out a deal with her?"

He sighs, like I'm an idiot. "Maroni's gaining control now. Falcone all but has lost."

"Maroni can't run the city!"

"No, he can't," he groans. Butch's thick hands cover his face, like every thought sends pain to his brain. "I really need to go now... I'm not feeling good."

"Wait!"

He's already to his car.

"I need the warehouse location!"

And he's gone.

I feel totally helpless. What can I do? Sure, I could call the GCPD, but no one probably cares enough to comes check it out! I feel as though the fate of Jim, Oswald and Harvey is placed in my hands. Someone has to save them.

"Ed!" I call up the squintern.

"Hello, Miss Gordon. Would you like to hear a riddle?" His smile practically bursts through the phone. 

It's calming... For a second. "I would love to, but I can't right now. Do you know anything about the Falcone warehouses?"

He thinks for a minute. "I think I can pull something up for you. This isn't really my division. Why aren't you calling for someone else?"

I sigh into the speakers. "Jim and Harvey aren't there. You're really the only one that I trust in the GCPD."

"I'm flattered. Hang on, let me see what I can find."

"Thanks. Please hurry." I'm racing against the clock. Time is of the essence.

After a few minutes of silence, he picks up the phone again. "Sorry it took so long. We don't have too much on the warehouse locations. More like the numbers and size."

"What about some by the docks? Do you have anything on that?"

"Just that he has more than Maroni."

"Are there any that have been idle recently?"

"I don't have that here. I'm sorry, Miss Gordon."

"No, no. It's okay," I say, even though I'm utterly frustrated at the whole situation. "Thanks for your help."

"Is everything okay, Miss Gordon?" He sounds concerned.

I just can't tell him that Jim's in danger. It will hurt him. He'll be worried. "No. Everything's fine. Jim just needs my help on a case."

He doesn't sound convinced. "Okay..."

Hanging up the phone, I scream into my pillow. I don't need to be panicking right now. Just think, Sera. What do I have at my disposal that will help me find the warehouse? I could call Butch again. I may even be able to call Jim. Doubtful that he'll answer. What about Oswald?

Oswald!

Driving hurts, but not nearly as bad as walking does. I'm trying to get used to walking without them. So far, it's not working out in my favor.

"Hi!" I greet the bartender, who lets me back behind it. With my backpack of supplies, it's a bit cumbersome to weave through it without being noticed.

"Hey," he says. "Have you seen the boss?"

"No... I haven't. You know what? You're in charge until he gets back."

He's excited, eager for the job. "Yes, ma'am."

My warehouse is overflowing with men and women. It tugs on my heartstrings to see them aching so much. I just want to stop what I'm doing and help them. How did I ever agree to leave? These people need my help!

Instead of tearing up, like I might've, I prepare myself. They can't see me on crutches. They'll know I'm weak, defenseless even. I will not let myself be picked on.

"Hey! It's the doc!"

I limp over to the dresser and crawl up on it. "I need your attention, please."

The nurse Falcone mentioned stops in his tracks. He looks overwhelmed. I wonder if I looked like that.

"If anyone knows about Falcone's territory on the docks, please come see me. It's information that I need, right now! Thank you!"

Hardly anyone is actually feeling good enough to move. And those that can don't know anything about the Falcone territory. Finally, after hobbling around to a few beds, the nurse rolls over a woman.

She has a bullet lodged in her arm. She's groaning and moaning, but the nurse claims she knows something about the territory.

"He has a warehouse that no one knows about on the northern side. You'll find it on the closest street to the water."

It's exactly what I need. I think I know the building she's talking about. I thank her and order the nurse to dress her wounds immediately. This woman is his top priority, now.

* * *

 

On the way there, I leave Lee a voicemail. She needs to know about what's going on, even if she can't get to the warehouse. This may be the only account of the events that will go on tonight.

I park a block away. Just in case Mooney has her men out and about, I can appear as a wounded creature. It'll give me the advantage to sneak in... Maybe.

Crutching through the streets, I notice how bright the street lamp is. For a moment of blissful forgetfulness, I think about how it makes the street looks like glass. I'm moving as fast as I can on the street of glass.

As soon as I dive into my thoughts, I'm pulled out of them. A gunshot sounds. And then another. What's happened?! Has she finally killed off Jim?! Oswald?!

Just as I start to panic, bloodcurdling scream fills the air.

"FISH!!" I call out to the falling voice. There's a loud clasp against the water, and then nothing.

She's gone... And if she's killed my brother, I'm glad for it.

The warehouse stinks like death. There's not a sound to be heard in the massive building. I note how much it looks like mine. I also note how many dead bodies take up the ground space. There's been a war here.

I drop the crutches and try to find anyone I know, or anyone alive. Maroni could still be here. And he is...just not breathing. There's clear bullet wound to his head. He's a goner. Other than that, I don't recognize anyone. My brother isn't here... And neither is Cobblepot, nor Butch. Maybe they've left and are hiding out. I certainly hope so.

Just as I'm about to leave, a distant cry comes over my ears. It's not in the warehouse- it's above it.

Maybe it's Jim! I climb up the stairs in haste, no matter how much my leg aches. Instead, I see Butch, whimpering against a structure.

"Butch!" I run to him and sling off my backpack. "Are you okay?"

He just seems to whimper and cry softly. Butch complains that something happened to his head. And he's right. He has a massive knot on the back his head. I crack open an ice pack and hand it to him.

"Alright, lady. Time to go." A gun clicks behind my head. I immediately raise my hands. The voice sounds so familiar.

"It's just me..." Trying to stay calm is not working. Having the barrel of a gun resting on the top of my head makes my knees weak.

"Doc?!" Zsasz lowers his gun. "Whaddya doin' here?! I thought you were supposed to be long gone!"

"Yeah I was," I say, zipping up my backpack. "What are  _you_ doing here? Don't you have other assignments to be taking care of?" I snap it all out bitterly.

He frowns, putting away his gun. "My only task is to finish off anyone left in that warehouse."

"Oh, well there's no one down there." I stand, still keeping my eye on Butch. "I was just there."

"How disappointing! Hey, haven't you heard? We're under new authority, now!" Victor nudges me with his elbow, like I'm his new best friend.

My look obviously reminds him that I haven't been here. But who can it be?

"There's a new King of Gotham in town!" He points.

It's Oswald. He's leaning against the edge of the warehouse. His breathing is heavy, his eyelids are droopy. It dawns on me. He's been shot.

At the time, I don't even recognize that he's the King of Gotham. I run over to him, dragging my backpack along the way.

"Hey..." I have to wake him up. If he goes falls asleep, it could mean catastrophic things.

His eyelids flutter open. They're the bluest I've ever seen them. A soft, pained chuckle leaves his lips. "Now I must be dreaming."

"Not a chance." I kneel at his side and go to work, pulling out things from my pack.

The bullet grazed his side. Sadly, it's already his bad side. Luckily, it didn't damage any of his internal organs.

Before I can examine the wound further, his hands wrap around my necklace. Oswald's mouth opens to say something. But it shuts before it does.

"Oswald, I need you to talk to me. Stay awake, okay? Can you tell me what's happened?"

Just as he's about to begin the tale, I motion for Zsasz to come and help me sling his arm over my shoulder, resting most of his weight on me... And my leg.

It's already aching, but I can't patch him up here. He's already lost too much blood to stop. I have to keep going. Right before we travel down the stairs, he says to Zsasz:

"Take care of Butch."

I can't argue against him right now. He's way too unstable.

Butch's screams and cries reverberate through the warehouse. By the time we're walking through the door, tears are pouring down my cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Oswald asks sleepily, as he gets into my car.

"My leg hurts."

* * *

 

"No. He can't come here!" Jim shakes his head at the sight of Oswald and I.

"He's going to die, Jim!"

He's torn, but he eventually lets him in. That's what enemies are for, right? Jim swears to leave for Lee's house as soon as he knows I will be alright.

I cut around his clothing and begin my work. The most alcohol around here is some cheap wine. There's really nothing to ease the pain. Even as he quickly downs the bottle, it's still going to pain him. I work as quickly and efficiently as I can, but it's hard. It's hard knowing that every cry he's making tonight is because of me.

I'm hurting him.

Finally, I get finished with his wound. Oswald's passed out, asleep.

"I should take him to jail," Jim urges. Throughout this whole time, he's been arguing with himself. "I should!"

"You should go to Lee's. By the morning, he'll be gone," I say, easily. My nerves calm down as the soft sound of his breathing fills the house.

James' jaw practically drops. "You aren't honestly thinking about sleeping with–"

"Can you keep your voice down?" I whisper harshly. "And no, for the record, I don't! Not right now, anyways!"

He shutters.

"That's what you get for asking questions you shouldn't be!"

Jim dons his coat. "If he does anything to hurt you, call me. I'll be here as soon as I can."

"No prob." I shut the door behind him.

Am I sure I want to do this? Am I completely sure that I'll forever be okay with this divide between Jim and I? Should I care? He's lied to me about so much... But haven't I done just the same?

I think on all these things as I go my restroom and begin pulling out the stitches in my forehead. It's time for them to come out.

"Ow," I wince. "Ouch."

A quiet knock comes at the door. I set down the equipment on the sink.

"Come in."

Oswald walks in, tired, and still half asleep. He doesn't say anything; he just wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my shoulder, burying his face into my arm.

In the mirror, I notice how clearly opposite we look. I look awkward and uncomfortable with the touch. He looks as comfortable as can be. We're a backwards balance, he and I. In any other time, wouldn't it be he, awkward and uncomfortable, rather than I?

I stare at the image of us, just for a second, before wrapping my arms around him, too.

When I do so, he looks up at me. I don't have two seconds to respond before his lips are pressed against mine. 

Every single warning sign in my head turns off. And I am lost and found all in the same.

Am I sure I want to do this?

Yeah... I am. 


	22. No Rest for the Wicked

 

"AH!!!" 

The house is as quiet as the dead. I'm still stuck in the nightmare. I can't seem to escape. His face is in my reflection in the dining room window. I can swear there are cracks lining my ceiling. My heart's beating so fast, I can feel it about to rip through my chest.

"It was just a dream," a voice says bitterly from my couch. Oswald sits up with a groan and rubs his eyes. 

Seeing him just a room away makes it all calm down. My blood stops rushing so quickly; my heartbeat slows. The ocean within my soul is no longer raging and angry– it's steady. 

I open my mouth to respond, but instead, I just walk over to where he's sitting.

"I need to see if there's an infection."

He nods, unbuttoning his shirt.

Kneeling on the ground, I carefully undress to wound. He winces as I do so, but allows me to work. And for that, I'm thankful. There are so many men that cry and protest like children to my care. 

There seems to be no real evidence of any infection. The swelling's starting to go down, and the stitches are sitting nicely. The wound's looking good... To be six or seven hours after.

Just as I'm fiddling around with more gauze, his fingers meld within my hair. It feels so good that I have to stop for a moment and take it in.

When I was a little girl and when I would be sick, I would sit at my mother's feet. As I rested my head on her knees, she knew exactly what I needed. She'd tell me:

_'Come on, Sera. Get up here.'_

And I would lay across the couch and she'd play with my hair for hours, or until I fell asleep.

Oswald chuckles from above. "I'm going to have to remember this one."

I roll my eyes, taping the gauze down to his pale skin. "Yeah, right." It's hard to focus! The feeling of fingers playing with my hair is so relaxing. I feel as though I'm about to just fall asleep right here.

A smirk tugs on his lips as he buttons his shirt. After a moment of silence, his smirk drops. "Thank you... For this."

I shrug, sitting beside him. "It's not a problem."

"I hurt you, though."

This time, I smirk. "I knew you were lying. I overheard the whole conversation with Jim."

His eyes widen, "Then why did you pretend like you didn't? Jim wouldn't have made you leave."

"I wanted to see if he was going to tell me the truth," I say. All joyful emotion ceases at the reminder of my brother. "He didn't."

"He just wanted you safe."

Hmm. I do believe I've heard this before. It doesn't matter, now. The chasm between us is growing. As I dive into this relationship– _whatever_ it is with Oswald, I'm drifting further and further away from my brother.

Oswald's features soften at my clear annoyance. It's like a mental note pins itself to his brain. Don't mention Jim. Got it. So instead of trying to argue with me, he presses his lips against mine.

The kiss is soft and gentle, like he's afraid he'll break me. It's the exact opposite of what I expect a kiss with him to be like... And it's the sweetest essence in all of the world.

As we part, he demeanor seems star-struck. "Oh my."

A soft laugh escapes my lips. "I'm going to have to remember that one."

He shakes his head, smirking all the while. Just as he's about to go in for another kiss, a pounding knock comes at the door.

Every butterfly and light-hearted feeling is lost. The pounding nervousness within my heart takes its place.

Using the baseball bat as a cane, I answer the door, fully expecting it to be some die-hard Maroni follower.  Or perhaps it's one of Fish's fans. They've come back to finish off Oswald and I. I just know it."Is the boss here?"

Butch and Zsasz stand at the door. The lackey looks much better than when I saw him earlier. Victor looks... Well, like he always does.

"Yeah... Come on in."

My eyes never leave Butch. Even as they walk in and sit beside Oswald. He's been reconditioned. Each of my heartstrings are pulled as I shut the door. Morning's on the horizon.

"Gotham needs its new king by sun-up," Butch informs.

Victor agrees. "So we should go soon."

Oswald nods at each of their suggestions. "Boys, boys. I have a plan. I always have a plan."

Just like that, the tenderness I saw in him disappears. I shrug it off, knowing that a busy man like him has a reputation to uphold.

They stand, coming to an agreement on a plan. Both Victor and Butch pull out their phones and start talking away. Apparently, there's going to be a meeting.

Oswald waddles over to where I stand near the stairs. "Won't you come?"

"Yeah, right!" I laugh it off. "I don't want to be in the gang. No thanks."

He rolls his eyes up to the sky, like it's holding the reply he seeks. "It's too late for that, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," I say, eyeing to the two other men in the room

He scoffs, crossing his arms. "What am I supposed to call you? Better yet, what would you  _like_ for me to call you?"

"I dunno... Just not that."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

Should I go? I mean, I already have a target on my back because of Jim Gordon and Falcone. If Gotham knows I'm in a relationship with the Penguin, I'm just another leverage against him. On the other side of that, what if he gets into a situation where he needs my help, and I can't help him because no one believes we're a thing? Since he  _is_  now in power, there are going to be girls and boys trying to get a snap at him because of his money. Jealous embers rise within me. No, no. I can't have that.

And besides all of  _my_  desires, Butch needs me. He needs someone to take the heat when things go wrong. It's obvious that he's starting to crack. Even now, his moves uncontrollably. The Tourette's has set in. He needs someone to protect him when even he can't protect himself.

He once mentioned to me that for Oswald to successfully run Gotham, he'd need someone at his side- someone behind the curtain.

"Fine, I'll come."

Jim will kill me if he finds out.

His countenance brightens.

"But, I don't want to be in all of your affairs. Leading a gang is not in my interests. I don't want to do the doctor thing for too much longer, either. I want to train someone to do my job and stop. I'm more of a backstage person, anyways."

"Fine," he agrees. "That's totally okay with me. It's why I have a person like Butch."

"Right."

On the way there, the two henchmen talk into their phones. Even Oswald makes a few calls. I'm left alone. But I don't mind. The city keeps me company. The sun and I play hide-n-seek between the crevices of the buildings; our eyes play tag along the streets.

* * *

 

When we finally get to wherever the meeting's being held, I'm surprised at how big it is. It kind of reminds me of a mini-Wayne Manor. It's large, but not as giant as the manor. Once again, I'm reminded of my promises. I haven't even been bothering to pay attention to anything about the Wayne murders! Is he just waiting on me to come back and tell him what I've heard? Certainly not. Not by now.

Security at the gate lets us in. We continue down the driveway until we get to the concrete steps and large wooden doors. Each guard is eager to let us into the mad house.

Upon entering the massive house, I realize that this isn't just a meeting place. This is someone's actual house. The walls are being repainted. There's a golden ambiance and tone to the house. It's been recently redecorated.

"Who lives here?" I ask Butch, quietly.

"Penguin just bought it not too long ago."

"Wow..." My voice lowers to a whisper. How has he had the time to move all of his things to such a huge house? He must've gotten his boys moving quickly.

"We have your crutches, ma'am." A gang member appears at my side with the same metallic crutches I use.

"Thanks," I hand her the bat I used as a cane. She takes it and disappears into a different room. Oh, it feels so good to get off of my leg!

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Oswald announces as he leads our pack into a meeting room. In the center is a large dining table. All around sit important men and women from all families. I see some of Maroni's, some of Falcone's. I even spot the girl that Jim once talked to. She looks older than she did before. Selina, I think is her name. She dons makeup, and I think she's actually fixed her hair.

Oswald stands at the head of the table, resting his hands on the wood. Victor sits in a chair close by while Butch and I stand behind him.

"I'm so glad you all could make it, so early in the morning," he checks his watch, but then turns his attention back to his captive audience. "Really, I am. What I need to know is are all of you awake?!" Oswald slams his hands on the table, making everyone jump.

His audience nods, leaning on their elbows to hold onto his every word.

"Good! Because there is a new rule in town! I don't know if any of you have heard, but Fish Mooney, Salvatore Maroni AND Carmine Falcone are all gone!"

His words flow in and out of my ears. Is it true? Is Falcone really dead, like the other two? I don't recall seeing him in warehouse. How could I have missed it?

"And now, all of you answer to me! Are we clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Cobblepot."

"Please, call me 'Penguin'." he regains his cool, and leans back, rather than oppress his subjects. "Everything that Zsasz and Butch says goes. Understand?"

The family members nod.

Oswald grins, contently. "We also have another power in our midst. This is Sera Gordon," he motions to me.

I wave shyly. What else am I supposed to do? Anything else that comes to mind is the opposite of how I actually am.

"She is your number two."

Selina's eyes dart up to me, like she's trying to figure me out.

"She's our head doctor, for now. She's looking for someone to take her spot. Any doctor or nurse interested in that should go see her."

They agree, taking me in. I can feel the heat of their eyes upon me. So instead, I just look between Butch, Oswald and Selina.

"Good. I'm glad to see we're all in agreement. I need to speak with the few people I've talked to earlier. The rest of you go and await orders."

Does that mean me? Should I wait outside? Wait, no. I'm the head doctor. He'll need me for this... right?

I take a seat besides Oswald. Butch takes the other side of him. Zsasz stays in his seat near the end of the table. The rest of the audience just fill in the nearby spaces across from the four of us. Selina (though I'm pretty sure she wasn't called) sits right across from me.

"Gentlemen... Ladies..." Cobblepot smiles contently at his little arrangement. "Can I just begin by saying how wonderful it is to be able to work with you all?"

We remain silent. Oswald's surely playing an intimidation game with these guys. None of them actually have his trust. For him to successfully have all of Gotham behind him, he'll need their total support. The best way to do that in this town is to scare them, but reward them. 

"There's a few things I need to address before we get to work," he says, resting his elbows on the table. "First off, I'll need you to bring me every person in your respective families, which are now mine, by the way." 

The men and women nod in agreement. 

"Why do you need them?" Selina finally asks. 

Oswald thinks for a minute. I've no doubt that he's trying to put together the correct words. "I'm going to induct everyone in the family. Your people need to be tested before they can join, but I'd like to do it personally, you understand? I only want the best of the best. The only way I can insure that is if the three of us do it ourselves." 

He's going to kill the traitors off. This is just the means he's going to do it by. It's clever and cunning, but it takes a toll on my conscious. Instead of saying something, I just stare at my hands. 

"Yes," he inhales deeply. "Bring me your people and we'll host a little audition, of sorts. You are to give me reports of business and income by noon as well as all codes, passcodes, and keys. Take all medical staff to Sera by the same time. She'll be inducting the medical staff." 

That brings me out of my daze. Wait, I'm in charge of inducting the medical staff? ! I'm in charge of all of it? What if someone doesn't meet up to my expectations? Am I supposed to kill them? No, he doesn't possibly expect me to do something like that. He wouldn't. 

"Where would you like to host the trial?" He asks me, not ever changing his demeanor. It doesn't soften. His eyes don't sparkle; his normal stone-hard face doesn't change. 

"Um," it catches me slightly off-guard. "My warehouse." 

Oswald nods and pulls out a blueprint of the city. "All of your medical staff are to be in this warehouse here," he points to it. "By noon." 

The leaders glance at it and take it in, memorizing where it is. 

Selina rolls her eyes. "It's in the warehouse behind Penguin's joint, guys." 

She didn't glance at it for half as long as the others did. This girl must certainly know her way around the city. 

Cobblepot also catches on. "Selina, right?" 

"People call me 'Cat'," she shrugs. 

He eyes her over, approving of the girl. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Cat. Didn't you work for Fish?" 

"I don't work for nobody," Selina corrects. "It was just a cool gig while it lasted." 

"And now?" 

"And now I'm here." 

He shrugs it off. "Alright. Do the rest of you think you handle the responsibilities? People, keys, reports and the induction. Got it? Go." 

The leaders agree and exit the meeting room. Selina follows them out and shuts the door behind her. When the four of us are left, Oswald sighs. Butch loosens up his posture and Victor sits across from Cobblepot. 

"I think this is going very well." Oswald finally says, leaning back in his chair. 

Butch agrees with a slight tilt of his head. "Just wait until one of 'em doesn't agree." 

The boss crosses his arms. "That's why I'm going to need you and Zsasz this evening– for those who've betrayed me in the past, and that don't make the 'cut' this afternoon." 

"Yeah, sure boss."

Victor pipes in. "Do I get to kill 'em?" 

"Of course!" Oswald says in disbelief, like he can't believe he'd suggest anything else. "Isn't that why I keep you around?" 

"Yesss." He looks like he just won the lottery.

"And what about you?" The new big bad turns to me. "Do you think it's going well?" 

"For the first morning, yes. I think it'll be hard to get everyone under your rule, but once everyone gets into a routine, you'll be fine." 

"I agree," Butch seconds my thought. "Picking up Gotham from a bloody war won't be easy, but I think you can do it." 

He takes it all in. I can see the gears turning in his head. Surely he didn't suspect this to be an overnight change. But why not? Haven't the families gone through power changes enough to know how to adjust with a new leader?

From across the table, Zsasz makes a whipping motion with his hand. " _Thwack_.  _Thwack_."


	23. Taking the Crown

Shortly after our little talk, Butch and Zsasz get to work, leaving Oswald and I alone. It's only now that I actually relax.

He chuckles at my slouched shoulders.

I roll my eyes in response and rest my chin in my hand. Taking a moment just to breathe, I observe the room. There's a large fireplace against wall. On its dark, wooden mantle lays a few artifacts; there's a clock, a picture or two and I think I even notice a mini sculpture of a penguin. Candles are lit in various places around the room, even though sun peeks in through the dark curtains. The golden wallpaper and feeling of the room blends in very well with the dark wood furniture. It's a place I'd love to hide out in and take a nap, sometime.

"Are you going to tell your mother about all this?"

His lips purse into a line, like he's frustrated that I brought down his moment. "Maybe. What would I tell her? _'Hey, mother. Guess what? I'm a not just nightclub owner anymore! This mansion is mine, yes. Mind the bloody puddles. Surprise! I hope you like it here.'_?"

I shrug, "I don't know. It's just strange that she's kept up in that nappy complex while you're living in a place like this."

"I have other places," he clarifies. "I have to."

He's right. Now that he's such a huge figure within Gotham, he'll need other places he can run and hide, should things get bad.

"And besides," Oswald adds. "I've asked her to move before. She has so much in that apartment that she doesn't want to leave. Too much memory, she says. I'm working on it."

The way he talks about his mother is the way I only Jim would talk about ours. Even as she's on life support, he rarely ever speaks of her. He's a busy man, but too busy for his mother? What if she could watch everything he was doing? Would he change then?

Speaking of the Devil, just as I'm about to respond to Oswald, my phone buzzes.

"Hello?"

"Sera, where are you?"

"Where am I?" A laugh off his too-serious tone. "Well, where I am is–"

Oswald tilts his head and blinks at me. I'm doing the same thing to Jim that he does to his mother. Grudgingly, I speak into the phone.

"I actually don't know where I am... Oswald?"

"She's at my place, Jim! She's safe."

Jim's lips form into a white line. I can feel it through the phone. "Sera! You just told me you were done with the gang world."

"It's not that easy, Jim. I have to train someone to take my place."

"Then will you be out, for good?"

Once again, I'm torn. James is waiting on me to tell him that I'll be out. Oswald is waiting on me to deny him. He raises his brow, expectant of my answer. Jim sighs through the phone.

I don't want to let either of them down. Jim is my  _brother._  I'll be betraying our family, basically. Once again, I'll be the lost little sister. But isn't that what I've always been? And Oswald? We're something I haven't explored in such a  _long_  time. I've put my school and my work before any sort of dating. Our connection is becoming undeniable. If I leave, I'll be walking away from something that could be the best memory of my life.

"I don't want to be a part of the gang,"

Oswald's jaw drops.

"But I also can't leave it."

Jim huffs through the phone.

"I hate the things they do. I hate it more than anything," I confess into the phone. "I'm surrounded by liars and killers. But Jim, listen. I'm also surrounded by a few of my best friends."

"Your 'friends' are murderers of innocent people. They aren't your real friends."

"You don't know that, Jim." Running my finger through my hair, I exhale sharply. "And besides. We've been over this before. Look, Oswa- Penguin knows I want out of the gang. He's promised to keep me out of it. I just need to find someone to replace me."

"Then what?!" He snaps. "Then what? Penguin will have no more use for you! You'll be gone. You're just leverage against him. He won't want you around."

Oswald pipes in, having heard the whole conversation. "There's where you're wrong, friend."

Jim's just about to lose his cool. "Meet me at Oswald's tomorrow night and tell me your official decision. I'm not talking about this anymore."

He clicks off the phone before I can protest. I groan and rest my head in my arms. Oswald's hand runs along my back. At the moment, it's not soothing- it's frustrating. I don't want anyone touching me. I want to think. I want to be alone.

He tries to soothe me with comforting, slow words. _It'll be okay. Jim will work himself out_.

But not once does he try to bring up the fact that I called him a liar and a murderer.

* * *

 

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen!" I greet the crowd of various doctors and nurses as I prop myself up on the dresser. "I hope you're all doing well."

Falcone's injured men and women still rest on the bottom-floor. Some are dead and some are pretty close.

"I'm sure your leaders told you about what we'll be doing, yes? Well here's your test: I'll assign every nurse and doctor to an injured member. I'll be walking around, monitoring your progress. Ah, and there's one more thing. You can only use the supplies that are in this dresser. "

The crowd fidgets and murmurs amongst themselves.

"Leave all of your equipment with the nice men holding guns."

They do as I say. One by one, they lay their equipment with the henchmen Oswald assigned to me.

"Thank you for your compliance. Okay, I'm going to split you up."

There's easily enough for each nurse and each doctor to get their own patient, so that's what I do. I divide them up among the injured and send them to work. Like ravage dogs, they sprint to the dresser, grabbing whatever supplies they'll need.

"Don't forget to share! If this family is going to work, you will need to be in cooperation with your fellow nurses and doctors. Every death is on your heads. Now, I know some of you may not have a conscious, but I do."

It's not true, but it's what they'll think. This family needs people who will not crack under pressure. It needs steady, efficient hands, even when in the grinder. Some of the injured today will die. It's just going to be happen- they're too far gone. It's up to my medical staff to adapt to it and move to the next patient.

So far, everyone seems to be doing well. There's a struggle here and there, but nothing that I don't think we can overcome with a training session or two. That is, until I reach a certain nurse, all by herself. She's handling a patient with a gunshot wound to the side. If it were me, I'd move on. The bullet hit his liver.

Her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail. She slips on a pair of gloves and examines the wound. The nurse sighs at the sight of it. "What's your pain scale like, sir?"

The man groans out. "It hurts so much."

She blows her bangs out of her face. "I need some pain meds over here!"

I follow her eyes. Not one doctor has even touched the pain medication. All of it's still left in the dresser. It's at this moment that I want the henchmen to shoot up the whole building. No one even bothered to ask their patients if they needed medication.

The young nurse runs over the dresser and returns with the needed things. After inserting the medicine, she stitches up the man and turns to me.

"I can't do anything else. I'm done."

I examine the wound and nod. "What's your name?"

"Joanne."

"How old are you?"

She adjusts her hair. "I'm nineteen years old."

"You've done a good job, now go help your peers."

Joanne runs off to help the next struggling nurse. I just have to stop and take a breath. There's no way she's an actual nurse. Schooling takes too long for that. She must have a story. A nineteen year old girl should not  _want_  to jump into a world of crime. This can't be the life that she wants. It hits me hard.

I can hardly focus the rest of the trial. My mind is too plagued with endless questions that I can't answer.

Eventually, the helping trend catches on. The whole crowd of nurses and doctors are working on two patients... together. It would be a sweet sight, if I wasn't already so sickened. By sun down, everyone on the bottom floor is patched up– as much a possible, anyways.

"You've all done a good job today. I have no problem with letting you all into the family. I'll let Penguin know."

The crowd cheers and high fives all around. They're just glad none of them have to die tonight. I'd be jumping and cheering too. Bad leg.

"Speaking of," Zsasz appears at the doorway. "We need to go, doc!"

The crowd of nurses and doctors fall silent as Victor enters the room. He smirks at the attention.

"I need everyone to meet me back here at ten tomorrow morning. You're all dismissed."

The mass of people exit the warehouse from the back entrances, so that they don't have to go through Oswald's club.

I hop off of the dresser, landing on one leg. "What's up?"

Victor's ever-piercing eyes are just that as he answers. "The boss wants you there for the induction ceremony."

"Do I seriously have to be there?"

He tilts his head in a frustrated manner. "Yes."

I roll my eyes, but agree to go... mostly because I don't know how far Zsasz will go if I refuse him.

Victor's car stinks of blood and death, with a hint of mint. It's not shocking. The mint is a pleasant surprise. The ride back to Oswald's mansion is generally quiet. I try to make light conversation, but he makes everything creepy.

"How did the try-outs go?"

"They were okay. Two people died. There wasn't much blood though," he shakes his head. "It was a shame, I tell ya."

"Ah," I nod, turning my eyes back to the road. "Have you ever had a girlfriend, Zsasz?"

He doesn't take his eyes off the road. In fact, none of his expressions change. "No, and I don't care to. I'd much rather kill a girl than screw 'er."

And I officially want out of this car.

"What about you? You ever had a girlfriend?"

"No," a laugh escapes my lips. "I don't roll that way."

He doesn't answer for quite a while. Instead, he just keeps his eyes on the road... which I'm thankful for.

I'm reminded of Barbara Kean. Jim once told me that she and some Major Crimes chick had a fling. Guilt suddenly pangs in my stomach. I probably should go see her in Arkham. It's not her fault that she went crazy. She's probably locked away in some cell, alone and afraid. And for a moment, I have to wonder if I'll end up the same way.

* * *

 

"So glad you could make it!" Oswald greets as Zsasz and I step through the door. Men and women crowd around the table. But there's two spots on his left-hand side. I sit in the one closest to Oswald. Zsasz sits in the one next to mine. Butch waves at me from the other side. "How did the inductions go?" He asks, quieter than his greeting.

"They went well. There's nothing I can't improve with a training or two. We'll be alright."

"Is there anyone you're thinking of that could take your place?"

I shrug. "There's one."

"That's good to hear," he says and turns his attention back to the chattering audience. "We're about to begin the induction ceremony. Anyone who does not wish to be in the family can leave. The door's right there."

No one dares to move. Good. I fear they'll be shot down if they do.

Oswald gives a speech about being a part of the family. He gives analogies about how each part is to work. It's mostly a whole lot of things I couldn't care less about, but I pretend to listen.

As he speaks, I lock eyes with Cat, who has her knees pulled up to her chest. She's staring at me... just staring. Occasionally her eyes dart to Oswald, then back to me.

Finally, Cobblepot finishes up his speech and instruction. Every person has very specific orders. Most of them are to go home and return in the morning, but instructs some to stay.

When people start to file out, he leans in. "You may not want to stay for this."

Oh. _Oh_. I know what's he about to do, and he doesn't have to ask me twice. I grab my crutches and follow the crowd out. Shutting the doors behind me, I wince. There were at least ten men and women still in that room.

"So is that what you do?" A child's voice comes over my ears. Selina stands nearby.

"What?" I ask, crutching around through the rooms, just exploring.

She shrugs. "Ya know, when he does somethin' you don't like. Do ya just close the doors and explore his house?"

I roll my eyes. "How would you know that?"

"You'd be surprised what I know. I'm pretty smart," she narrows her eyes like I'm the idiot. "Anyways, you better get used to closing your eyes."

I scoff in response.

"That guy's trouble. It'll just get worse with all this power. I know. I've seen it before."

"Yeah? Then why are you here?"

"I come and go as I want. It's what cats do."

My eyes rolls once again. "Maybe so. Maybe so."

"A nice girl like you doesn't need to be in a dump like this. You should get out of here."

"Excuse me, little girl," I stop walking. "You don't know the first thing about me."

Cat laughs. "That's a good one. Everyone knows you're Jim Gordon's sister. And everyone knows you're a walking heart. So either toughen up, or get out of here."

My eyes narrow of the child. She speaks all of the truth, but it's annoying coming from someone so young. "Well, maybe this place needs a little ' _nice_ '."

"It's your funeral."

"Yeah, it is. Thanks."

She doesn't respond. Cat runs out of the house without another word to anyone. There's no doubt she's off to steal something. Jokes on her, I've actually asked Harvey about her in the past. He doesn't know too much, just the fact she's been alone for as long as he can remember. He also mentioned that she likes to steal things, like it's a hobby. Perhaps I should call Harvey up.

Just as I'm about to dial, a gunshot rings through the house, then another... then another, and another, and another.


	24. The Enemy Within

I leave Oswald's house before the ceremony is over. Selina got me thinking. How can a girl so young have so much perception? 

"Hey, Harv. Are you up?"

"I am now," he groans through the phone. "Why, what's up?" 

"Can I come over? I need your help." 

I can hear him run his hands down his face. "Sure." 

"Cool. I'll be there in a few. Would it make it better if I brought you food?"

Bullock chuckles through the speaker. "Yes. Yes it would."

Before I get to his house, I grab both he and I some soft tacos from the joint he loves so much. I even get him a chocolate milkshake. Maybe now I can be considered a friend.

"I have tacos and milkshakes to go around."

He takes his food gratefully, not waiting until we're at his table to dig in. "You have the worst timing, but you're a really good friend, y'know that?"

My mouth is still full of food, but I laugh. "Yep."

"So what's the deal tonight? Lemme me guess," he says in between bites of food. "Penguin's now in control and wants you to stay in. Jim wants you out. You're torn because Jim's your brother, but you and Penguin have a fling... Which is gross, by the way."

"You've hit it on the head," I sigh, taking a drink of my soda. "Oswald knows I don't want to be a part of the gang anymore. He respects it, too. He says that as long as I can train up someone to take my spot, that I don't have to do the whole doctor thing anymore. Jim wants me out, period. But he just doesn't understand that unless I break it off with Oswald, I can never just be  _out._ " I don't mean to spill everything out to him. It just happens. My words are like a rushing river that I can't stop.

"First off, I'm still pissed off about what he did to Fish. It's hard for me to be unbiased. Secondly, don't call him 'Oswald' around me. It's weird, okay? Thirdly, you know Jim always calms down after a while. I'd just give him some time."

My eyes roll, having heard that response a thousand times already. "But what if he doesn't?"

"Well, what do  _you_  want?"

What do I want? I've been so busy asking myself what everyone else needs, that I haven't stopped to even go over my heart's desires. "I don't– I don't know."

"Until you figure it out, you won't be happy. When you do, it won't matter what Jim says, or what Penguin thinks of you. When you finally get into your element, you'll be happy in your own skin."

It makes me feel a little better. It's going to take time for me to figure out what I really want, but I believe him. Once I do figure it out, I'll be good to go. If Jim and Oswald care about me as much as they say they do, they'll understand whatever choice I make.

I bow to him, mockingly. "Thank you, Sensei Bullock."

He laughs, "Not a problem, grasshopper."

"I probably need to head back to my house–"

"Hold on," he stops me. "This is beginning to feel one-sided. I'm helping you with your relationship issues. Now you get to help me with mine."

"Sure. Whatchya need?" He completely right. Guilt pangs into my stomach. I've been pretty one-sided with him. 

"What do girls generally like? Like, as presents?"

I haven't been the recipient of too many gifts in my life. How would I know? "Um... I think we like chocolate... Flowers are pretty big, too. What about some jewelry?"

He thinks on it. It's obvious to tell that he's embarrassed he's even having to ask me.

"Perfume? A nice card? A poem?"

"Yeah... Yeah. Maybe you're right."

"Why?" I chuckle.

He shrugs, finishing off his food. "I have this girl, y'see. You'd love her. I'll introduce you two soon."

"Great," I say, mid-yawn. "What's her name?" 

"Scottie." 

A laugh nearly leaves my lips. "Sure she's a girl?" 

He narrows his eyes at me. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Goodnight Harv."

"Yeah, now you're running." Harvey chuckles as he closes the door behind me. He doesn't realize that I've been running. For about a year now, I've been running... and I have no plans to stop.

* * *

 

"Can anyone tell me what's the most important question to ask your patients?" I stand on the the dresser, addressing the nurses and doctors on the floor below. They sit with papers and pens in their hand, taking notes... which they've been doing for an hour and a half now. 

After leaving Harvey's, I made a syllabus of what to do over in the training. As it turns out, I'll be able to get out all information to them in one session. Afterwards, they'll be split into different warehouses and sent to work. The clockwork is beginning to come together. 

"'What's your name'?" Someone suggests. 

I shake my head. "Nope. Next guess." 

"'Where are you hurt'?" 

"No. Does anyone else think they have the answer?" 

Their blank expressions and blinking eyes give me the answer I'm looking for. No, obviously not.

"The most important question is 'what is your pain scale like today?'," I finally say. Their pens scribble along a line. "Their pain is your number one concern. If you can't get their pain under control, they'll just die faster and be harder to deal with. You may have noticed yesterday, a majority of the wounds are not treatable. Either a bullet has hit some vital organ or an infection spread throughout their whole body. The pain medicine you give them will decide if they die a frantic, nervous death or a calm, peaceful one. The situation is revolved around you. You're in control." 

A few of the staff nod in agreement, like a lightbulb goes off in their heads. 

"Next time we have a training session, we'll be able to put that into practice. Now, I've given your leaders specific warehouses for all of you to be split up in. No, there's not a specific medical leader you'll be answering to at your warehouses. I'll be traveling around over the next few days to help you set up the appropriate equipment." I nod to the henchmen. They pull out sheets of papers, assigning the staff to different places. "I'll be going to the first two on the list today."

"What are the rest of us supposed to do for the rest of the day?" A doctor asks. 

"Visit your warehouse. Get a feel for it, then go to your families," I say with a nod. "Those who are in the first two warehouses, go to them. I'll be there in a few minutes." 

A few in the crowd widen their eyes. When was the last time Maroni or Fish gave them a day off? They deserve it. I know if I was in their position, I'd want a day just to relax. 

"Now, go." 

They disperse in their separate ways, as do I. If they don't have questions for me, I'm not going to wait around to answer them. They know exactly where to find me if they need something. 

Just as I slid into the backseat of the car, a henchman speaks up. 

"Is it true?" He asks, laying his gun in his lap. 

My phone almost slips out of my hand, due to my own clumsiness. "Is what true?" 

"That you can't fix us up most of the time."

It catches me off-guard. I have to think before answering. "No," I lie. "I just tell them that so they'll actually give you guys pain meds before operation." 

"Then why'd you lie to 'em?" The driver pipes in. 

"Because doctors and nurses think differently," I explain, coming up with it on the spot. "They're more logical. What's right and wrong doesn't come so easily to all of them." 

My men think it over and don't bother to say anything else about it. I guess it makes sense in their head, which I'm thankful for. If Oswald had people questioning the medical staff, his rule could be in question... and I'd be the one to blame. 

* * *

 

The rest of the afternoon consists of running around to the two warehouses I assigned, and setting up their equipment. Each one has different accessories and containers to work with, but I set them up all the same. Medical tools/fluids/medicine, etc. on the right wall. Bodies on the left. The front and back of the warehouses are for entry only. 

I also make sure to apply the top and lower floor system. Stretchers and trash cans are spread out in strategic areas. After explaining the system to my doctors and nurses, they go to work, already bringing in and working on a few injured. 

Then I move onto the next warehouse, doing the exact same thing. It's a pretty basic process, but being up and out all day long takes a toll on my leg. I use my crutches when necessary, but no more than that. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey, Sera, bring the Penguin tonight when you make your decision," Jim demands over the phone.

"Why?" I ask, getting back in the car. "So you can threaten him too?" 

"Sera," my brother chuckles. "I've physically harmed your boyfriend before. I don't think my threats would make a difference to him." 

Well... he has a point. 

"Fine. Why not?" 

"Thanks. See you there in two hours." 

"Sure thing, boss." 

"What'd Penguin say?" 

"Oh," I chuckle in response to the henchman's question. "That was my brother." 

* * *

 

Stepping back into the mansion, I take in a deep breath. I still don't know what I want to choose. I don't want to disappoint Jim, but I also don't want to lose Oswald.

"He's in there," Zsasz says as he passes. 

"T-Thanks." It brings me out of my zone. When I step into the meeting room, Oswald's talking to two henchmen. I think nothing of it. "Hey, Butch. How's it going?" 

He shrugs. "It's alright. The boss is just ensuring the loyalty of Maroni's men."

I nod my head in understanding and take another glance at the men. Wait. I do recognize them. 

"Butch?" My voice is a whisper. "Have you ever killed someone?" 

He leans in, not having heard my question clearly. I can feel heat come into my face. My hands become sweaty. "Yeah. Why?" 

"Because I think I'm about to–" 

I can't hold myself back any longer. My expressions go dark; I'm letting the rage and anger take control. I unleash myself into a dead sprint at Kade. My knuckles fly across his jaw and his falls to the ground. 

I don't waste another time in following him. 

"You. Nearly. Killed. Me!!" I yell, hitting him across the face multiple times. The pain in my hand doesn't register. My anger fuels each hit. It's uncontrollable– I'm uncontrollable. 

Butch's strong arms wrap around me and pull me off of Kade. Oswald's eyes are widened at my attack. Ha. His jaw even drops. Paul stares in horror at his partner. And Kade... well... he'll need a trip to the warehouse. 

"Sera..." Oswald says, breathlessly. "What is going on?"

Butch still has to restrain me. "They're the ones that did it," I spit, poisonously.  "They tortured me on behalf of Maroni!" 

It's their fault! They're the reason I can't sleep at night! They beat me to a pulp! They tied me to a fence in front of that damn church and left me to die. My anger pours out in sweat and tears. 

He mouths, an 'oh...'. Suddenly, his shock and disbelief sinks behind a face that even makes me less angry and more fearful.  

"Get off of me," I jerk myself out of Butch's grip. 

He lets me go, understanding the situation. He nods and folds his hands across his frame. 

"Well," Oswald says, taking in a deep breath and regaining his ever-cool demeanor. "That changes things." Before he continues, he rolls his eyes up to the sky, like he's looking for the words to say. "You know, I have thought about what I'd do if I ever ran into the men that did this to you. Butch, get him up." 

The lackey does as he's told. Even if Butch wasn't under his control, I bet he still would've done it. The venom dripping from Penguin's voice is deadly. 

Kade groans as Butch stands him up. Blood pours from his nose and mouth; his eyes are swollen shut. I hurt him bad... and it felt good. 

"So what shall it be?" He asks, pulling out a knife. "Fingernails? Hands? Eyes? I mean, you may want to talk to Fish Mooney about that one," Penguin chuckles darkly. "Say 'hi' to her for me, will you?" 

Just as Oswald's about to take his knife to Kade's throat, Zsasz jolts in. 

"I didn't want to miss the action." 

The interruption brings me back to my senses. I was about to watch him kill someone! Tears swell in my eyes as Penguin orders Victor to take care of them. I can't believe it. I can't believe myself. 

I storm out of the meeting room as quickly as I can with Oswald on my tail. 

"Sera. Sera!" 

"What?" I snap, turning to face him as Butch closes the doors. "What?" 

"Are you okay?" 

I pace back and forth and run my hands along my face– just like my brother. " _No_! No, I'm not. Oswald, I was about to watch you  _murder_  someone. I was  _okay_  with it!"

"And?" 

Seriously? He can't honestly be saying this. Does he know me at all? "And?!" I mock, never stopping my pacing. "I don't want to become this person, Oswald. I don't!" 

"Then don't!" He argues with the same intensity I do. When I don't stop my incessant pacing, he grabs onto my shoulders. The grip is firm, but caring. "All of that is up to you! You become a killer, or you don't!"

"But what about–"

"Jim is in the exact same boat! And he's in the police force, Sera!  _In_  Gotham!" He says it all like it's supposed to comfort me. And it does... a little bit. 

"I just can't believe I actually thought about–" I cut off my own sentence, finally calming down. "I was okay with it. That's not me." 

"Then take it as an out-of-body experience and move on. They left you to die, Sera. They beat and tortured you. I think anyone would say it's acceptable for you to have thought that." He releases his grip and smoothes down my jacket. Oswald lets me breathe for a minute before speaking again. "Better?" 

"Better," I say, not entirely there yet, but getting close. 

He presses a kiss to my cheek in response. 

"Jim's meeting me at the club in... thirty minutes. He wants you to come now, too." 

"Does he?" He quirks a curious brow. Like clockwork, he adjusts his suit. "Why?" 

I shrug, coming over my nerves. "I don't know." 

"Come, then. We shouldn't keep him waiting." Oswald extends his arm to me. 


	25. Lost Things

Stepping into Oswald's is like walking back into a dream- a forgotten, blissful dream. I seem to dance back into the first night that I visited the club on my own time. The music plays deafening loud; odd-looking personas pass and push past our two bodies. For moment, I glance over at Oswald, who's actively seeking out the business of his club. Just for those few seconds he's looking forward, I feel completely carefree. There's absolutely nothing in this world that can worry me.

That feeling fades when he turns his gaze back to me and points at Jim, who sits in a booth. "Oh look," he says, "he brought Lee."

I smirk. "I didn't know this was supposed to be a double-date."

He chuckles in agreement and walks me over to the booth. I slide in first, then he follows in. I'm sitting across from Lee, and Jim's across from Oswald. Leslie and I exchange nervous greetings and have a mental/eye conversation about how awkward the whole situation really is.

Oswald's greenish hues continually glance past our table.

Jim notices nearly immediately. "What's got you so worried, Penguin?"

He shrugs, "Nothing really. The business man within me just has a need be checking up on how it's running." Oswald adjusts his suit and apologizes. "I assure you, it won't happen again."

The four of us order drinks and various meals. Cobblepot offers to pay for everything, of course... Possibly because he doesn't have to pay at all. He's in charge of all of it. Right after we place our orders, I feel the need to speak up. I think I've made up my mind. I spent all the way over here in a complete silence, just letting myself get lost within the city. It was then that I realized what I need to do with the rest of my time here.

"Look, Jim. I think I've made my decision-"

"And I've made mine," he interrupts, taking a glance at Lee.

Oswald and I exchange glances. "What do you mean? Didn't you want me to make up my mind?"

James nods, intertwining his hand with Dr. Thompkins. "I did at first. Then Lee and I had a long talk about it. And well, no matter what you choose, I-" Lee nudges him. " _We'll_  be here for you."

Time seems to slow. Oswald's turns his head to see my reaction; Jim smiles thinly at the pair of us, and Lee offers me a supportive smile.

The law is a definite set of rules and guidelines. Love is something completely different. Family is something totally outside the law. Love and family have gray areas. And right now, we're all we've got.

A smile spreads across my lips. "I think you should know my decision."

He bows his head for a minute, smirking softly. "Don't mistake this for my approval of the situation. I'm here for you and I always will be. That doesn't mean I like the choices you're making, Sera. I think it's a suicide note."

My smile fades softly. "I know. I wouldn't want it any other way. You keep me in check."

"I'm not going to hold back on you," he clarifies, growing stern once again. And I wouldn't have _that_ any other way. "And I don't understand your need to be with this–" When he points to Oswald, Lee clears her throat. "This person. But I won't keep you from him."

"If you want," I say, folding my hands on the table. "I won't bring you into anything about it if you don't want to hear about it."

"Thanks. I just want the minor details, only."

"I want to hear about it!" Lee pipes in, not caring about what Jim thinks. I think that's my favorite quality of her. She's set in her own beliefs and Jim can come along if he wants to... which he usually does. "I like hearing about it. I think it's neat. Gordons on both sides of Gotham."

Oswald smirks at her comment. 

"There's also another thing we need to talk about," Jim says.

All attention is turned back to him. "Yeah?"

"How long are we going to keep mom on life support?"

And the mood is lost. Oswald's smirk drops. Lee's smile disappears and grim resignation blankets my face.

"Right..."

"Are we going to keep her on there until we can't pay for it anymore, or what?"

I haven't hardly even thought about my mother in the past few days. I've had way too much on my mind. What would she say if she could see me? Would she think my work was good? Would she even remember for long enough to care? "I don't know, Jim."

Lee then gives her two cents. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you that her brain activity ceased. It would practically be no different."

"Other than she would actually be dead," Oswald reminds.

"Yeah... Yeah."

After a few more minutes of debating the consequences, we come to a decision.

"I think it's time, Jim."

He nods in agreement with my choice. "Then let's do it tomorrow."

"Will you actually be there?"

"Yes... I promise."

"I'll be there too," Lee adds. "You both need the support."

"As will I," Oswald bounces off of what Lee says.

Just as the moment settles, Jim jumps right back into his personality. "Don't think this makes us friends, Penguin. If I even hear that you've hurt her, I will personally break every bone in your body." My brother glares at him. "There is not a place you can hide that I will not find you. Are we clear?"

Cobblepot raises his hands in innocence. I don't blame him for being intimidated. Jim's an intimidating man, even without dating his sister. Perhaps his threats still do affect him.  "Crystal."

"Good."

Just then, our food arrives. Penguin urges the server to encourage the kitchen to whip it out faster than they have been. The rest of our time together is surprisingly peaceful. Lee and I chat about how horrid the medical equipment is in the warehouses. Jim and I reminisce on a few things that remind us of mom. Oswald and Lee talk about how stubborn and impossible us Gordons are. Hell, even Jim and Oswald have a conversation.

The power of love is amazing. Two sworn enemies sit across the table from each other.

My boyfriend picks up the tab, as promised and shortly after, Jim and Lee return to her house.

"Everything goes back to normal tomorrow, Cobblepot," my brother warns with a eye-cold glance. His blue eyes meet Oswald's green eyes in a moment of complete and utter silence. "Just because she may be my sister doesn't mean you get immunity from the law. You got me?"

"Honestly Jim? I wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

 

"We should do that more often."

Oswald quirks a brow as he pulls away from his club. "Do what more often? Have dinner with your brother and his girlfriend, or go out on dates?"

My soft laughter fills the car. "Go out on dates, duh."

He doesn't seem entirely convinced with the idea. His usual smirking lips pull downward; green eyes stare at the road, like he's contemplating on whether he should even answer or not.

"What?" I fold my arms across my chest. "You don't want to go out with me?"

"No! No," he quickly corrects himself. He even laughs. "I would just like to go somewhere that I don't work."

"But you work everywhere, right?"

He clicks his tongue in between his teeth. "That's it. Everywhere I go, I'm going to be paraded by people that need me to do things for them."

"Can't you just keep them away? For one night? You have henchmen, y'know."

"I know," he chuckles, still not succeeding in pulling off his 'okay' face. 

"Have it your way." I shrug, honestly not caring too much about the situation anymore. There are other things we can do besides go out to be on a date.

"But I will," he says, too quickly. "If it's really important to you, I will. You're going to have to forgive me, Sera. I'm not much of a 'dating' person. I didn't do really do it as a teenager or anything. It just wasn't something extremely important to me." 

I'm glad he's telling me this– I think. I'd much rather hear all of this now, then wonder why he is the way he is later. To be honest, I didn't date too much either when I was younger. I was too focused on other things. There's a whole realm of relationship rules that I don't quite understand yet, but overtime, they've been whispered to me, through actions. Jim's shown me what not to do more than what to do. 

"Neither did I," I lean back into the seat. "I guess we'll figure it out together." 

His smirk returns. "Yeah, I guess so." 

It then occurs to me. He's never even asked me to be his girlfriend, nor go out on a date with him... and yet here I sit, hung on to his every word. If he wasn't in the car, I'd scoff at myself for being so silly. I'm listening to his sentences like they're honey; his eyes catch my gaze and seem to keep them there for so long that I can't even remember what I'm doing. And the butterflies! Oh. They're the worst! Every single time he goes reaches in to hold my hand or give me a kiss, they kick and fight in my stomach. 

* * *

 

"Goodnight," Oswald walks me to my door. "I'll come and take you to the hospital tomorrow." 

"Yeah, sure." I wrap my jacket further around myself. The cold is relentless in Gotham– especially at night time. It's just another thing to add to Gotham's song. Along with the padding feet, the crying lyrics and slamming doors, the whispering wind comes into play. "Goodnight." 

He intertwines our hands together and stares at them. His freezing cold fingers send goosebumps on my arm; the warmth from my hands begin to heat up his, like a blanket. 

For just a single second, my eyes take to the stars; they're so bright, tonight. What a beautiful sight to clear my mind with. My hazel eyes meet with his once again. There was once a night where I thought his essence was captured in the night, but in the dim glow of my porch light mixed in with the darkness, I realize that this most relevant to his true self. Oswald stands as straight as can be, staring in my eyes trying to read what I could possibly be thinking. The darkness of the night covers half of his body, while the dim lighting takes up the other half.

Redemption is possible... even for him. 

I've been so consumed with myself that I haven't even bothered to examine  _his_  soul. I've just always thought he was a lost cause and there was no bringing him back from the darkness his pleasures himself in. But that's not true. At this point, I don't even think I want him to be "good". Jim's had more of a target on his head from being good, than just playing along with the game. 

Before I can inform him of this realization, I press my lips to his. And I lose myself, once again, in the blissful touch of the person I once feared. His arms wrap around my waist as mine wrap around his neck. 

There is no more Sera Gordon and Oswald Cobblepot. There is only us: Just us. We're not bad, we're not good. We're not in the darkness, yet we are not in the light. We just  _are_. 

* * *

 

In the morning, I dress in black slacks and a green blouse; it was my mother's favorite blouse on me... I just think that perhaps I should honor her with something as little as this. The morning trudges by with little glimpses of my past. 

I swear I can see my mother lying on the couch while my father tunes the radio. Isn't that Jim coming down the steps? 

Just as I exit my daydream, the doorbell rings. 

"Come in!" I call from the top of the stairs. 

Oswald opens the door and shuts it behind him. "You should lock your doors, you know." 

I shrug it off, slipping in my last earring. "I did, but I unlocked it a few minutes ago because I knew you were coming."

"Ah," he says, not entirely convinced. "And what if a rival tried to sneak in, hmm?" 

"I have a baseball bat." 

He gives me the most skeptical look he can muster– his brow even arches. Even so, he quickly gets over his look and starts inspecting the windows and doors of my house. "Do you notice how easy it would be for someone to break in here?" 

I shake my head, donning my black coat. "No. No I don't." 

A sigh leaves his lips. "This. This is sad," his arms flail, like he's giving up. "I need to upgrade this place. Right now, there's nothing keeping my enemies out." 

"Other than what they know you and Jim would do if they ever harmed me," I remind opening my door. "Are we going or not?" 

Oswald reluctantly pulls himself away from my window and steps outside with me. "Oh, so you lock your door behind you, but not when you're actually in the house, but not when you're in it?" 

I roll my eyes. "Relax!"

Once again, my sleep was uneasy. I dreamt nostalgic dreams of my mother. Of course, the typical Maroni nightmare shifted itself in at the end, but mostly, it was quiet. That doesn't mean it was peaceful, no. The dreams I had were just a flux between melancholy and deep-rooted numbness. 

Seeing my obvious discomfort, he gives in. "Fine, but this conversation isn't over."

"Sure, sure." I wave him off as he pulls away from my house. Like every other time I drive through the city, I get lost. This time, nothing catches my attention. The white-gray clouds in the sky fuel my desolation. As we pass the alleyways, not one cry makes me turn my head. Not a single building peaks my interest. Gotham just seems dull. 

He laces his arm through mine as we step into the hospital. "Are you okay?" His voice is low and concerned. It's a sweet gesture, but not one I want to think about right now.

"I'm fine," I tell him with a soft, fake smile. 

Oswald doesn't seem to believe it, but he goes along with it anyways. 

"Sera!" Rachel's voice is concerned as well. "Jim and... his  _girlfriend_  are already in the room. They're waiting on you."

That's right! She did used to have a crush on him! I'm betting I would think it to be hilarious if I wasn't in such a mood. 

I turn my smiles towards her. "Oh, thanks." 

She frowns behind her dark brown hair. "If you need anything, I'm here. You can call me up at any time." 

"I know." I thank her for her friendship and walk back to mother's room. Inside the room, next to nothing's changed. Oswald's flowers have wilted and all but fallen off. The white walls are dusty  and plagued with sheer nothingness. 

Lee and Jim sit beside each other. She's leaning back against the wall and he's leaning forward. Their hands are locked together. For a brief moment of peace, I'm overwhelmed with a gratefulness for Lee Thompkins. My brother needs her. 

Cobblepot and I sit on the opposite wall and mimic their positions, except he's leaning against the wall, and I'm leaning forward. Our fingers weave together, like a perfectly made basket. 

After about an hour of complete silence a doctor comes in and explains the process to us. We all know what's going to happen, but hearing it is just another bullet to the wound. Jim and I visibly cringe whenever he mentions the effects. 

"Are you ready?" 

My brother and I take a glance at each other and nod at the doctor in unison. A counselor or two is sent in to talk to us about grief. At the same time, a doctor and nurse enter the room to log time of death, which they do. Time seems to speed up. I can't hang onto any words spoken by anyone! Every second moves past so quickly! I can't stop to even ask them a question. 

Before I can even register what's going on, the piercing sound of a flatline fills the air. Time of death is called. And my mother is no more. 

I've heard the sound only once before. The last time was with Mr. Mason. He'd just warned me about the darkness I so hungrily dipped myself into. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I followed it. And it's lead me here. 

Jim stands to look at mother one last time. I would too, but I'm too far gone in my own thoughts. That is, until my hand is squeezed. 

"Don't you want to go see her?" 

I can't remember if I shake my head or not... and I think I tell him, "No. I'll see her at the funeral." I don't want to see her ugly and worn. There's no way this is going to be how I remember her by. I refuse. 

They cover her body and do the natural post-death routine that they always do in the hospital. When asked, Jim places the funeral preparations on me. Don't family friends usually take care of that stuff? No matter. It's not like I have a whole team of medical staff to be taking care of, Jim. 

I think Jim, Lee and I say goodbye after all of the arrangements are made. I can't quite remember. The next thing I know, Oswald and I are sitting in his car. There are tear streaks down my face... at least, I assume they are. 

"Sera, I asked you a question." 

"What?" I'm pulled out of my vague numbness. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if you were okay..." His brows knit together in concern. His stone-hard features are graced with a gentle, caring undertone. "You've been very quiet." 

"Yeah," I answer, softly. "Yeah I have, haven't I?" 

Oswald sighs and drives back to his mansion. The ride is completely silent. He doesn't talk, he doesn't pry for answer, heck! He doesn't even turn on the radio. It's just  _silent_. 

As soon as we step into the mansion, I'm pulled into the most caring embrace I've ever felt. Even though I try and pull away from it, he keeps me in his arms. A hand wraps around my waist; the other around my head. I don't want to feel right now, I don't. But as he presses a soft kiss to my head, he forces me to do so. 


	26. Starting to Learn

The funeral preparations take up my next few days. It's boring work, but work I'd rather be doing than dealing with my grief. The doctor training gets put on a hold until the funeral is over. I would've agreed to do both at one time, but Oswald insisted I focus on my mother's burial. Just so that I'm not carrying around the warehouse preparations myself, I usually bring Joanne along with me. She's a pretty good help- still a bit of a ditz, but a cheerful ditz.

Oswald wraps himself up in his work, of course. Thankfully though, we usually get early mornings to spend together– without being bugged by his henchmen every five seconds.

"He sure is busy a lot," I comment to Butch one day. "I mean, he's practically in that meeting room all day."

The heavy man takes a bite from his sandwich and shrugs. "What did you expect? He's in charge of a lot of people!"

"I dunno," sipping on my Coke, I mock his shrug.

Just as I'm about to add something, Oswald waddles out of the meeting room. "Hello, you two."

A snicker escapes my lips. "Do your ears burn?"

His brow furrow together. "No," a kiss is pressed to my forehead. "Should they?"

"I was just mention how often you're in that room."

Cobblepot too, shrugs. "I'm a busy man, Sera."

"That's exactly what I said!" Butch points his finger in agreement as Oswald steals one of his chips.

My phone buzzes loudly on the table. It's the funeral home. "Hi, yes. This is Sera?"

"Everything has been double-checked and is ready for the visitation tonight and the funeral tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" I ask, leaning back in my seat. "I want everything to be perfect."

"You have nothing to worry about, Miss Gordon. Let us take care of the rest. Meanwhile, I can suggest some counselors for you-"

"No thanks," I shut the phone before the funeral maker has a chance to answer.

The two men both give me suspicious looks. Playing it off, I add:

"I'm going to go practice. Cool? Cool. Great."

Before either one of them has a chance to ask me about the call, I dart upstairs. The piano room is just at the end of the hall. Even at the top of the stairs, I can look to the right and see the ivory keys inviting me into the room I've been spending all of my free time in. Just walking down the dark hall, all of my cares and worries seem to shy away. The keys provide a certain blanket of protection from every grief in the whole entire world. My mother's not dead; my father isn't either. James doesn't disapprove and Oswald's not a murderer.

Everything is just as it should be as I step into the piano room. The unpainted, grey-ish white walls set the tone of a canvas. The instrument is the only "colorful" being in the room. It's the only thing that exists besides myself.

Sitting on the bench and take a deep breath, I scan over my score. Over the past few days, I've been working up a little piece for my mother. It's not much, but it's something, right? I mean, I haven't played since I graduated high school. Jim hasn't played his instrument since junior high, but I kept on with it.

My fingers dance like bony ballerina's across the ivory stage, slipping up here or there. After a tumble, they always get up and keep going. Every time I get to the end of what I have written, I go back over and play the last few lines, just to see if inspiration comes... but each time, my brain runs dry. Perhaps it needs another harmony in the left hand...

"It sounds like it's missing a melody somewhere." Oswald stands at the door. No doubt his hands are slipped into his pockets and he's leaning his shoulder against the frame. 

I answer him without turning to look. "And since when did you become a music expert?"

The fabric of his suit ruffles together, telling me that he's just shrugged. "Since never. That's just my humble opinion."

My eyes roll and I go back to playing the same tune. Perhaps it does need a little chorus or something... but there's no way I'll sing to it. No way. I hated being on the stage as a kid and I hate it now. It's a stretch for me to even play the piano in front of people.

"Maybe you're right."

His bony, cold fingers glide over my shoulders and collarbone– sending a chill down my back indefinitely. "You'll figure it out by tomorrow."

* * *

 

The rest of the day is spent in the piano room, madly writing and composing whatever possibly comes to my mind. In all of my life, I never considered composing a gift of any sorts. With what I've seen, it brings madness and unhappiness. Wealth only goes so far.

Finally around five, a knock comes at my door.

"Come in."

"Sera. It's time for the visitation." It's Butch. He's come to escort me to the funeral home.  I take his arm and walk down the stairs. "Don't you want to dress up?"

"I will for the funeral tomorrow."

Oswald meets us at the car, and we drive to the home.

When we get there, it's far greater than I expected. When I went to go over the details for my mother, I only saw a couple of rooms. Stepping into the visitation room, emotion hits me straight in the face. All of this is real. It's like the funeral home branches off into a cathedral. The room is full of pews with with velvet-like seats; the carpet has a color to match. Right behind my mother is a huge stained glass window in the design of a cross. Doubling that and the amount of flowers covering the casket, I'm unbelievably overtaken by some suppressed storm of an emotion. In fact, I almost fall over.

"Are you okay?" Oswald notices it immediately.

I recover my senses with a shaky inhale. "I'm fine."

"We don't have to be here," Butch adds, taking my other arm.

"I'm honestly fine," I snap. "I'll be okay."

My two companions take seats in the middle of the pew while I go to look at my mother.

There are obvious traces of make-up covering her face. Mom would've never worn so much make-up. In some sort of vanity, I want to wipe it off. But I can't. Jim would kill me and it would probably be a horrific sight for anyone with a weak stomach. She dons a pink suit that she always wore on Christmas and Easter. I don't remember going to church once without her wearing it. And as usual, her pink flower broach is pinned just above her right chest.

I can swear that at any moment, she's going to pop up and embrace me. Maybe she'll even remember my name.

"Hey Sera," Jim wraps his arms around me and pulls me into the closest hug I've ever felt in all of my life. "How are you?"

"I'm alright," I say once he finally releases me. Lee also gives me a quick hug. "Mom's looking better than ever."

His blue eyes focus on her, yet no tears even swell in his eyes.

It's like we've changed places since dad's death. He's the one lacking emotion, and I'm just too full of it.

"She is, isn't she?" Lee comments, pulling Jim away from the casket and to a pew on the opposite side of my comrades. At first, I'm ready to pull him back. Let the man mourn/ But then I realize that it's only for his good. If he stares for too much longer, he'll start to obsess. That's the opposite of what Jim really needs right now. He needs love and support. 

Suppose I need it too... Where is my crew? Oswald and Butch sit in the pews, hands folded on their lap. They don't talk; they simply stare. Butch observes the room while Oswald has like eyes locked on me at all times. As we make eye contact, he doesn't smile, he doesn't mouth anything to me– he just keeps his eyes trained on mine. And that's more support than I could ever get from a hug.

Just as I'm about to walk back to the aisle, a woman walks into the room. She looks only a little younger than my mother. Perhaps I should greet her, instead, I take my seat besides Oswald. The woman goes up and peers inside the coffin. In a brief moment of confusion, she glances around the nearly empty room. Before I can make sense of her uncertainty, she's sauntering up to Oswald, Butch and I.

"Is this the funeral for Benjamin Gordon?" She asks.

Butch smirks. "You just missed it."

The woman seems very disappointed. "Oh, did I? Have they already buried him?"

"Yeah," Oswald adds. "Four years ago."

"Oh," the woman plops herself in the pew ahead of us. "How horrible."

Her perplexed nature about my father has me curious. "Why? If you were important enough to be there, why didn't you get an invitation?"

"Oh well," she sighs. "I suppose I was important, just no one knew about me."

"Why is that?" Oswald asks, now intrigued too.

"Well, I was the little secret, you see," she says, lowering her voice down to a hush. "When he moved to this vile town, I had to stay. I haven't seen him since."

If what she's implying is true, I'm not quite sure I'll be able to stay in my seat.  My boyfriend reaches to take my hand, but they're already clenched into fists.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"When Benny moved his family to Gotham, I decided to stay in Metropolis. His babies were quite young at the time. I think a part of it was his conscious. He didn't want to have an affair while his children grew up. We called occasionally, but that was it." She keeps sighing, like it's some sort of tragic love story. It's not. It's sick and disgusting. "Jim and Leah, I think."

"No," Oswald leans forward. "It was Jim and Sera."

She waves him off. "I don't really care too much anymore. I bet they're all grown up and moved away, by now."

Butch bows up at the lady. "That's Jim Gordon over there. And this girl right here?" he points to me. "This is his sister. This is Sera Gordon."

"Well, I'm very sorry it had to come out like this, dear."

"Why are you here? You aren't wanted here."

"I thought it was Benny that–"

"Don't call him that," I warn. "His name is Benjamin. Only my mother ever called him 'Benny'."

She rolls her eyes. "Anyways, I thought he was the one that keeled over. I was gonna come and give my respects."

"Your _respects_ aren't wanted." Words pour out of my lips like a deadly venom. "I would be happy to show you to the door."

"That isn't necessary, sweet pea. I can find it myself." The older woman barks just as poisonously. Just before I can snap back at her, she gets up and leaves. 

When Butch is sure she's out of the picture, he shakes his head. "Can you believe that?"

Oswald plays along. "No. I doubt it was even true. Jealous women tend to do irrational things. Right Butch?"

"Exactly."

Their words go in one ear and out the other. For the rest of the visitation, they try and comfort me by lying. It doesn't work. I'm not a complete idiot. As people hug and give their condolences, they try and weave in a comforting thoughts into my brain that I just want to wash off. Stop trying to help me. I'm not crying; I'm not broken.

* * *

 

"I'll see you tomorrow," Jim says as nine o'clock rolls around. "Be safe getting home, alright?" He hugs me one last time.

"Sure thing," I smile softly. Not once have I thought about telling James about the encounter with one of dad's women. I once assumed that dad had affairs by how much he was at the office Perhaps James has assumed the same thing. And if he didn't, I'm not going to be the one to tell him now. "You too, alright?"

Lee chuckles, "Of course. No other way, right?"

I nod and the two walk out. Not once did Jim and Oswald talk. Maybe things really did go back to normal.

"Are you going home?" My boyfriend asks once we get in the car.

"I was going to practice a bit more."

"No, that's fine. Butch, take us home if you don't mind."

The lack does exactly as he's told, like always. Is it better to be dead than have to follow someone's every single command?

As soon as we get home, I go straight up to the piano room and practice my heart out for the next two hours. I'm going to get this right. I owe it to my mother, now. After what I witnessed today, I don't have any other option. I refuse to bury my mother with nothing after such an unbelievable encounter.

"May I come in?"

"Sure, Butch."

The man rests his arm on the piano and just gazes at me. For a moment, I'm about ready to slug him in the face. I've been stared at so much today that I'm getting tired of being looked at.

"What?" I demand.

He shakes his head. "Nothing. Nothing, really. I just– you look so sad."

"Do I?" Venom takes the place of honey in my mouth. "I wonder why, Butch!"

"But it's like you can't remember why you're even sad to begin with."

My eyes go down to the piano. Why exactly am I sad? Is it really because of mother? I've been expecting her to die at any point. Hell, I was the one who made it happen. Even before that, she didn't remember me, so what's the difference, really? Is it because I ran into one of  dad's women? No, no. Deep down, I think I knew it was true. It's always been the elephant in the room. When I was a kid, it caused a rip in my parents' marriage that wasn't _so_ obvious when I was a child. So no, I knew about that.

"It's because you miss them," he informs. "It's not because they died or a past flame from your dad's life reappeared; it's honestly because you miss them. You miss their company."

Uncontrollable tears swell into my eyes. My nose starts to run. "Stop it, Butch."

A chuckle fills the room at my demands. "Okay," he pats the piano. "I just thought you'd like to know." Without saying another word, he leaves the room to just my thoughts and I.

My lower lip start to quiver. It feels like a knot is rising in my throat. It's suddenly much harder to breathe.

I'm not sure how long I sit up in the room, just letting the tears pour down my face, but at some point, Oswald waddles in.

"Sera? It's one o'clock."

"Is it?" I quickly wipe the tears away and check my watch. "Hmm. I guess it is. I should probably be getting home now."

I try and push past him so he doesn't see that I've been crying for hours. Instead, he catches me and pulls me into his arms. I reciprocate the embrace, losing myself within him once again. I'm so easily lost, and yet, I'm hardly found. When he and I are close, it's like I don't even exist. Oswald doesn't exist either. We're just forgotten together.

"Can I stay here for the night? I don't want to be alone."

He's nervous when he answers. "Um... Sure. I don't have any spare bedrooms ready, but mine is open for use."

A soft smirk crosses my lips from his shoulder. "If your bed is big enough to fit the both of us, I'll be fine."

"Oh it is," he reassures quickly.

I roll my eyes and pull myself away from his tight hug. "You're such a dork," our hands intertwine. "Are you done with everything? Like, are you ready to go?"

He nods, walking me down the hall. "Yeah, no. I am. I just need to run downstairs and grab something." His cold hand releases mine and he starts down the stairs. "My bedroom's right there. Feel free to go in and make yourself comfortable."

I do as he says. To no surprise, his room is lavish, like the rest of the mansion. It has four different doors, all leading to a bathroom, a closet and two other rooms if I'm thinking about the structure correctly. His room is decorated with the same golden wallpaper and dark wooden furniture. Books lay in each window sill. Some are propped open to a certain page; others are not. One area is dedicated to hundreds of books. There's a fireplace right beside the bookshelf, no doubt for curling up with stories to keep out of the coldness of the world.

His bed will definitely fit both of us. It's huge. Way bigger than Jim's and mine put together, that's for sure. The sheets and pillows are an ivory-ish color, blending in with the ambiance of the room, perfectly. The bed frame is made of the same dark wood as the rest of the furniture, but unlike some other beds I've seen, there is no headboard or baseboard, there's only the very generally frame. Ah, his sheets are so soft! Propping myself up on it, it feels like I'm resting on a cloud.

In a brief moment of enjoyment, I sigh.

Oswald chuckles from the doorway. "You like it?"

"Oh yeah!" I lay back, letting the sheets dry my tears. "I could sleep forever on this thing."

He sets down a book on a table leaning against the wall. Walking towards the bed, he takes off the jacket of his suit and lays it neatly on the window sill, along with his shoes.

I sit up as he crawls onto the bed. And just for a moment, I stop to look at him. I take in every single tiny little detail of eyes. They're the greenest I've ever seen them, but also the brightest. Some sort of glimmer twinkles in them.

"What?" He sits back on his knees, concerned.

"Nothing," I shrug. "You know how I am. I just stare sometimes."

Oswald chuckles softly. "Yeah, I know. Why do you do that?"

"I don't really know," leaning closer, I lower my voice. "I just do."

Unable to keep inches away, he puts his lips on mine.

And I am no longer lost.


	27. Keep Walking On

At some point within my slumber, an alarm goes off. But it's not my alarm. It's a steady, mechanical beeping. My alarm is a soft violin. So, in my tired haze, I roll over and drift back to sleep, thinking it must be a part of a dream.

"Sera," something nudges my arm. Lips press against my head. "Sera." 

"Hmm?" Rolling over, I feel a warmth of a body, but it's not my body! In a sort of panicked confusion, my eyes pop open. Oh. It's just Oswald. In my grogginess, I must've forgotten all about last night. "Hello..." 

"Good morning," a smile crosses his face. Ah, that smile will never get old. The scent of his too-expensive cologne floods my nostrils. He must've just taken a shower; he smells  _so_  good. "If you want to get dressed and ready for your mother's funeral, it may be the time to do so."

"What time is it?" I stand up frantically and throw on my long tee-shirt. 

He too, stands and checks his watch that's laying on the table. "It's 8:30" 

Shit. The funeral starts at ten! I should already be dressed, at least! "Really?" 

Oswald's brows furrow together. "Yes, really. Why would I lie?" 

"Ugh, nevermind. Can someone give me a ride home?" 

"Um, Sera..." He catches me just before I'm out of earshot down the stairs. 

"Yeah?" I jog back up to the top.

"Pants?" 

"Oh. Right." After grabbing them and my music, I head out.

* * *

 

Oswald stays at the mansion while Butch accompanies me to my house. He's been ready for hours, as usual. It's certainly no problem for him to sit around at the house and eat my food. 

"How'd you sleep?" 

My cheeks turn a bright pink and I gaze out of the window. "Very well," I say, clearing my throat. "Thanks... And you?" 

He bursts out into laughter. "Oh my God, Sera."

"What?!" 

"You're all bashful and shy about it. We all know you slept with him."

"I figured as much... since I'm guessing he announced it when he went downstairs to 'grab something'." 

"Yeah," he smirks. "We got a free night off, though." 

Embarrassment rushes through my system. I can't believe he actually told them... then again, it makes sense that he did. Still, it's pretty belittling I wasn't aware that his men knew about the encounter. 

"Sorry."

Butch playfully nudges my arm with his elbow. "Don't feel sorry! It was time, anyways!" 

"You think so?" I ask as we pull up to the house. 

He nods, following my lead. "Definitely. You two couldn't keep your hands off each other. And don't you feel better in the relationship?"

"Yeah." 

I feel like I haven't been in this house since mother died. It's empty and quiet. There's no TV show playing in the background; there's no gentle snoring to be heard. It's just dead. "I'm going to go get dressed and stuff. Feel free to get a snack or turn on the TV or something. I don't care." 

He answers from downstairs. "Thanks, mom!"

My eyes roll and I get to work. I only have a limited amount of time to put myself together, and I waste no time. In a haste, I slip on a tea-length black dress and ballet flats to match. Instead of straightening out my hair like normal, I curl it, making it barely drip down to my shoulders. As my time starts to dwindle, I hurriedly apply makeup and jet down the stairs just as Butch arrives at them. 

"I was about to tell you we need to– wow."

"What?" 

He looks so surprised that I can actually clean myself up. "You look gorgeous." 

A chuckle escapes my lips as I close the door. "Well, thanks Butch. I actually can look girly if I try." 

The lackey seconds my laugh. "So I see." 

"Oh," I wave it off, getting into shotgun. "It's not that great. You're making it more than it is. Makeup is a wonderous thing."

"No, I'm serious, Sera." He pulls out of the driveway and onto the street. 

I've never seen Butch in this light. This could very easily be the first time he's seen me as more of the girlfriend of his boss or a co-worker. And it's strange. But a good sort of a strange. It's like we're actually friends outside of of Oswald. 

"Well, thanks." My eyes take to the streets, as they always do. "It's for my mother. She always loved when I wore makeup and got dressed up."

His eyes don't peel off the road. "Did she? It's a shame you didn't do it more often."

"What about you, Butch?" 

"What about me, what?" 

"What are your parents like?" 

"Oh." An uncomfortable feeling rises in the car. He obviously hasn't talked about them too much. "Yeah, I have 'em. They're both alive, actually." 

"That must be nice." 

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, they live upstate in some old people's home, so I don't see them too much. My dad still calls me everyday." 

"Who pays for it?" 

"I do. It actually pays to be Penguin's lap-dog." 

That sentence sends a pang of guilt to my stomach. Butch still needs to get out of this. He doesn't like it. How much effort have I been putting into his escape route, hm? None. I've procrastinated and elongated his sentence further. I don't think I've even told him that I want to help him!

"I'm sorry, Butch... I want to help you get out of it."

"There isn't a way I can possibly think of," he says, sadly. "Believe me, if I knew of one, I'd be all over it. But I don't think there is." 

Perhaps if I knew more about brainwashing, I could be of service. Unfortunately, no classes are available at the local college for that course.

"Even if you could just get out of town–"

"Don't you think he would have his men on me by the time I got to Gotham's city line?" 

"Then go in the early morning or the late night. I can distract Oswald, and you can get the hell out of dodge." 

A soft laugh fills the car. "I'm glad you want to help me, Sera. But there are other things in place that you don't know about. If I could get out of the city, I would." 

I don't believe him. There's always a way out. Butch is no exception. There has to be a way to be free him from it. There's a constant, aching pulse pounding through my chest. I want him to be away from all of this crap. I want him to be okay. 

"Hey, cheer up," he says once we arrive at the same chapel my father's service was held at. "Okay. Bad choice of words. You know what I mean." 

I chuckle distantly, to appease him. It suddenly dawns on me that I haven't returned to this place since my dad's funeral. Even as we step inside, I'm overtaken by emotion. Hot, steamy moisture fills my eyes. 

Already, there are people flooding the seats of the auditorium. Quickly taking a poll, there are more people here than at my father's funeral. There's no way all of these people know my mother.

"Wow..." Oswald stands at the front row, just staring. 

"Told ya," Butch whispers into my ear as we join him. 

"You look stunning!" He tells me lacing his hand with mine. 

Jim and Lee sit a few seats down. My brother pats the seat next to him. "I saved you some room!" 

"Thanks," I laughs softly and sit beside him. Oswald sits next to me, and Butch beside him. Everything is running very smoothly for how this day could be going. By all means, the GCPD could be waiting up on the balcony till the time is right to rid the world of my boyfriend. 

"I can't stay for long," an older, male voice whispers into my ear from behind the pew. I know this voice. "Here, I brought you something." 

Oh my God. It's Carmine Falcone! Why is he even risking being here?! Oswald is sitting right beside me! If he wanted to, he could just reach back and choke the life out of the old man. 

Before I have time to react, an envelope is placed in my lap. 

"Car–" I turn to face the man, but he's already long gone. 

"Oh, what's that?" Jim asks, noticing the letter. 

Obviously, he didn't want James to find out he was here, or else he would've talked to him, too. 

"Just a letter someone gave me. Probably just sending their condolences," I lie. I'm pretty sure I have a good idea as to what the letter holds, but at the same time, I'm afraid to open it.

"Hey guys. I didn't miss it, did I?" Bullock strolls down the aisle, appearing the same as he always does. 

Jim and I give him quick hugs before he sits beside Lee. 

"No, you didn't." I say, chuckling. 

"Good," he answers in front of them. "I needed a little time to get everybody down here."

"What do you mean–"

Before I can finish my sentence, every single person from the GCPD files into the chapel and take their seats behind our row. Oswald fidgets in his seat, uncomfortably.

"Oh don't get your panties in a wad, Penguin," Harvey snickers. "I made them promise to give you a five minute head start after the funeral."

He thanks him nervously and focuses on everything but the amount of people behind us.

About ten minutes before the service starts, I hear a high-pitched: 

"SERA!" 

"Matthew!!"

Aunt Martha's clan actually made it to the funeral! I can't believe it. Just as I get up from the chair, the little boy runs into my arms. 

"Hello!" I laugh and spin him around a few times. "Hi, Aunt Martha!" I give her a quick hug. 

Jim stands and greets the family he hasn't seen in many, many years. 

"Can I sit with you?" The blonde kid asks of both his mother and I. 

"I certainly don't mind."

"Then I don't either, but you have to be quiet." Martha warns, taking her seat on the opposite side of Harvey, who makes no hesitation jumping into conversation with them. It's like he and Martha are old friends. Mark joins her shortly after greeting Jim.

As Matthew and I sit, Oswald takes the sheet music, making sure Matthew doesn't crumple it up. 

"Hello," Cobblepot greets my cousin with a gentle wave of his hand. 

Suddenly, it's like Matthew sheds his outgoing skin and replaces it with the shyest person I've ever seen from him. His eyes dim and he curls into a ball, resting his head on my shoulder. At least he speaks. 

"Hi," he responds, as quiet as ever. "I'm Matthew." 

"I'm the Penguin."

The way Matthew giggles at his name makes both Oswald and I laugh. 

"It's a funny name, right?" 

"Right!" Matthew agrees in laughter.

Just as the two are about to converse, the preacher stands at the podium and gathers our attention. It's the same preacher who did my father's funeral. How long do these ministers last, anyways? 

"We're gathered together to remember the loss of a wonderful mother, wife and daughter." 

If I didn't know any better, I'd say everything is the exact same since then! Not a thing has changed, except my mother is not here to pinch my arm for a bad attitude. No, she's in the casket. She's the one we're gathering for. 

Perhaps I should study the church. It's so easy to make myself blank out within the structure of the cathedral! I can just lose myself in it. 

But when Oswald grabs onto my hand, I know I will never be able to do that again. 

The pastor talks and talks and talks. Jim and I jab each other every time we're reminded of something that happened at dad's funeral. It's like a fun game between he and I to keep ourselves distracted from the grief plaguing both of our souls. We even take turns holding Matthew. The restless child is too much for just myself. Martha offers to take him back, but Jim refuses. And that's when I know that he's doing it for a distraction. 

Finally, it's my turn. 

"Her daughter, Sera Gordon has a little something she'd like to share with all of us... Won't you come up?"

As the audience applauds, Oswald hands me the sheet music and I glide up the carpeted stairs. It's as if no time passes at all, and I'm already at the podium, explaining what I'm about to do. 

"Hi," I laugh nervously into the microphone. "When Jim and I were little, mother made us take music lessons. James took the cello, and I took the piano lessons. Jim only continued until sixth grade, but I continued on until I graduated high school. Anyways, all of that to say I hated singing." The audience chuckles. "I was told that I was pretty good, but I never had a liking of being onstage... but um, today, I'm changing that. I hope you like it, mom." 

I walk to the piano and mic. Just like I'm at a piano recital or competition, I sit. My ballerina fingers wave over the keys as I think about what I'm going to do. I'm going to play a song and get off the stage like there's no tomorrow. 

And so I do. The melody I clearly wrote flows together like the way seaweed bends in the ocean's wave. As I come to the verse of my song, I almost stop. The microphone's right there... But I can't do it. I'm going to crack... But just as I think I'm about to lose it, the lyrics to my song come up on the big screen.

Suddenly, I'm not just singing for myself and my mother. I'm singing for Jim and Lee, for Oswald and Butch. My soul is pouring out through these words for Harvey Bullock and Bruce Wayne.

The choir quickly catches onto the melody on the song and for the rest of it, they join in. Harmonies and melodies are added in here and there, giving it beautiful movement. The chorus repeats, and as it does, I take a glance out to the audience. Someone I don't recognize stands in reverence. Slowly, other people follow his lead in standing. Captain Essen stands, as does Nygma, and the rest of the GCPD. Butch and Harvey are the first ones to stand on my row, then Oswald, then Lee and Jim. Martha's family even joins the crowd. 

And just like that, it's over. My song is done. A thunderous applause fills the cathedral. They're cheering... for me. The preacher thanks me, and I sit down. Of course, I can't do this without nearly tripping. Both Oswald and Jim grab onto me so I don't fall face first into my chair. 

"You alright?" 

"I'm fine," I tell them both. "I'm just really shaky." 

It's true. My hands and fingers shake uncontrollably. 

"You did great!" Jim congratulates as the pastor wraps up the service. 

Just as we're about to start the processional, I'm greeting by an enormity of people I don't even know.

"Your song was amazing, hun."

"Thank you for sharing that!"

"I'm an old friend of your mother's and I'm sure she would've loved it." 

Various things like that keep the processional from starting on time. Finally we're able to get going. Jim, Lee, Harvey, Butch, Oswald and I all crowd in the back of a limo

"This has been a better funeral than the last, huh?" 

"Yeah," I chuckle at Jim's joke. 

Neither of us feel that overwhelming sense of dread that we did at dad's funeral. It's light-hearted even. Our friends are gathered around us, this time. We aren't alone like we felt at the other one. Perhaps it's because the shock has all but left us. We both knew mom was going to die. It came slowly and peacefully, unlike dad's death.

When we get to the gravesite, there's more condolences and hugs from people I don't know. 

"I'm sorry for your loss," Edward quickly hugs both Jim and I. "I'm here if you ever need anything."

Jim gives him a curt nod. "Thanks, Nygma." 

"You have my condolences." James' boss also pulls him into a brief hug.

"Hey," Harvey nudges my shoulder. "Isn't there supposed to be food at these things?"

My eyes roll. "We're going out afterward. Hold your horses." 

He gestures like he's reigning in a pack of wild horses. "Alright, I got 'em." 

Eventually the preacher manages to sit us all down, and the ritual of the gravesite ensues. 

"Does anyone have a story they'd like to share about Ms. Gordon?" 

"I do," a woman I don't recognize stands from her chair. "If you wouldn't mind."

There's no chance for silence. The wind doesn't make it's grand speech and the dead don't dare to mock our family. This is how it should be. The dead need to stay in the ground, the breeze should only be a brief reminder. 

Almost everyone that personally knew my mother gives a memory or two of when she was alive. 

"I remember when I was younger," Jim begins as he lays his rose on mother's grave. "I ran in buck-ass nude to one of dad's meetings. My mother nearly lost it! ' _James! Young man, you better get back here!_ ' As quickly as she could, she wrapped me up in her arms and carried me back to the restroom where I nearly escaped a bath. She sat me down in that water and looked me straight in the eyes. I expected her to scold me. Instead, she just broke out into a fit of giggles. She never forgot the funny things." 

I guess it's my turn. Jim takes his seat by me and inhales deeply. 

"Well," I lay my rose beside his. "As you all know, my mother made us take musical lessons. One night, she asked to hear how our practice was going. It was close to mother's day, so Jim and I prepared a little melody for her. Anyways, he brought his cello downstairs next to the piano and we played it for her. She and dad applauded like maniacs after we were done. But then she looked at Jim and said: _'Honey, maybe football is a better route for you.'"_

The audience bursts out in laughter as I sit in the middle of my friends.

It's not too much time before her body is lowered into the ground. Both Jim and I shed a few unwanted tears, but that's okay. We here for each other. And we always will be. 

He and I lock hands, walking back to the limo. 

"To lunch?" Harvey asks, eagerly. 

"To lunch!"


	28. Knots

"Is your mind never not on food? Yes, table for– how many, Sera?"

I quickly count heads once we get to Chinese resturaunt. "Table for nine, please." 

Jim and I sit at the end, nearest to the wall. Oswald and Lee sit across from each other; Butch sits by Oswald, of course. Harvey sits next to Lee and then Martha's clan fill in the rest of the seats.

"That was a great service," Aunt Martha comments.

The gang nods along, agreeing.

"It was." Lee says.

Oswald shrugs, "I think the guest performance made it worth-while."

Jim rolls his eyes, but chuckles.

"Get a room!" Harvey adds.

Butch snickers. "I've been saying that for weeks."

"Is this your boyfriend?" Mark asks from besides Butch.

I nod, being taken aback by the question. Now that I'm thinking about it, I don't think I've ever said that Oswald is my boyfriend out loud. "Yes. Yes, he is."

Bullock gags, sending Matthew into a fit of giggles. His laughter is contagious as it spreads like a virus down the table. Shortly enough, our orders are taken and the food is served.

I've never seemed to realize why, but children seem to inhale their food. Just as I start working on mine, Matthew's already done with his and ready to be entertained.

"Can I sit in your lap, Sera?" The little boy slides between our chairs and stares up at me, expectantly.

Martha objects. "Let her eat!"

"No! He's fine!"

Just as the words utter my lips, the little boy climbs onto my lap.

My aunt gives her son a warning glare. "Don't you bother her."

I chuckle and continue in my eating and conversation. This is exact how I've wanted the situation to be, isn't it? I've wanted Jim and I seemingly inseperable across from each other. I've wanted Oswald and Butch at my side, and for Jim and his gang to just be  _okay_  with it. I've wanted my family close, and here is my cousin sitting in my lap!

My world seems to slow for the hundredth time today. Every single person at the table looks to be enjoying themselves. Even Butch is laughing along to Harvey's jokes!

"Are you okay?" Matthew asks to my gaze.

I quickly cover my tracks. "Of course. I'm fine!"

His brows furrow together. "You don't look fine."

Even though I laugh him off, I'm suddenly overwhelmed with a forboding sense of...something. It's never going to be stay like this. Jim will always try and shut down Oswald. Harvey will always hold a grudge against him for Fish. Even now, Jim and Harvey exchange nervous glances as do Oswald and Butch. So then why are they even here?

They're here for me.

And that's why they will always come together. I'm the unstable glue of this broken family. Isn't that what we are, anyways? We're a family, whether Jim wants to admit it or not. We are bound together.

* * *

 

"That was fun, thank you so much for the meal!"

Oswald waves off my aunt with a small smile. "It was certainly no problem."

Harvey pats him on the back as he walks out, making Oswald cringe. "Maybe I'll tell 'em to give you a ten minute head-start."

He rolls his eyes.

"We're only a few weeks away from moving down here!"

"Oh!" Matthew grins and jumps into my arms one last time. "And then you can sleep over again! And you can tell me stories this–"

His mother takes him back. "I'm sure you'll get to see her more. Is there honestly any way you could take him for a night or two when we get here? Mark and I want to get some things arranged in the apartment and it's so hard to do that with... him roaming everywhere."

"Sure!" I shrug. "I'd love to!" In all honesty, I don't blame her for needing a break; Matt's a wild child, but a lovable, cuddly wild child.

"You're keeping him at your house, right?" Oswald asks once we get back in the car.

"Right," I say, crossing my arms. "I would  _never_  keep him at your mansion. There's no way."

"It's just too busy."

"Yeah, and with all of the criminal stuff going on..."

It's a weird sort of silence between us. This is the first time I think I've ever recalled a quiet between just he and I. There are certainly times where silence is necessary, but this is an awkward uncomfortable quiet.

"I thought you were amazing," he finally confesses.

Oh, that's what the quiet is about.

A light blush comes to my cheeks. "Thanks."

"And just the way you took it so beautifully–" he shudders. "It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my whole life."

I plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, babe."

"' _Babe_ '?" He quirks a brow. "I don't know what I think about that one."

"Eh, I'm just trying something out."

"Do you mind if we stop by my mother's place before I drop you off?"

"Of course not. It's been a while since I've seen her, anyways."

The last time I saw Gertrud Kapelput, she was trying to set me up with her son... I guess– I guess it worked, because here we are. I hadn't even thought about Oswald in a romantic way until then. The power of suggestion is no playing matter.

Stepping into apartment, I'm thrown back into the same old-world feeling I had before. I'm no longer in Gotham; I'm in Germany, perhaps.

"Mother?" Oswald asks, peering into different rooms. "Mom?"

"Yes, my little Oswald?" Gertud comes bustling from around a door. "Oh! You've brought your friend back!"

"Yes," he says, hugging his mother. This time, he's slightly less affectionate towards her than before. Having a girlfriend must really set him back. I think on it smugly as they greet each other. "I have. Do you remember her name?"

She frowns, placing a hand on her cheek, thoughfully. "I'm sorry, dear. I don't remember."

"It's Sera," I say, waving softly. She wastes no time in grabbing my hand and patting it. 

"Are you his girlfriend?" 

He and I answer at the same time. 

"Yeah."

"No." 

At his protest, Gertud and I give him a curious glance. Finally, he caves. 

"Yes, she is." 

Hey, if I had to confess to my family that he was my boyfriend, than he better stand up for me now! I do not deserve that. 

"Oh," she nods her head, running her hands down my arms. "She is a pretty one." 

He chuckles, uncomfortably. "Thanks, mom." 

I smile thinly for the rest of our conversation. She asks me about my job, my family, etc. It's a typical conversation... and one that seems very similar to the one we had before.

"And what do you do for a living?" 

I think this is the second time she's asked me the same question. 

"Mom," Oswald grabs her hand. "She's a doctor." 

"Oh! A doctor!" She waggles her eyebrows at him with no less finesse than the last time. "How interesting! What about your parents, uh– Sera?" 

"They've both passed," I say, smiling softly. "My father three years ago, and my mother just recently." 

"Very recently," Oswald adds.

"I'm very sorry, dear," she pats my hand. "I bet they were magnificent."

"They were." 

 After enough prodding, Oswald once again pushes me out the door and thanks his mother for a wonderful time. 

"What was all of that about?" I demand once we get in the car. My arms cross over my chest. 

He looks like he has no idea about what I'm talking about. "What do you mean?" 

"Don't play stupid with me. You were so unconfortable with me being around your mother." 

Oswald shrugs like it's no big deal. "You know how my mom is. She gets in your space, and I didn't think you'd want that." 

"Not particularly, but I'd be okay with it because she's your  _mother_." My eyes take to the world outside. "At least she's still alive." 

His mouth opens like he's about to say something. But for the remainder of the time, I'm glad he doesn't. 

"I'm going to stop by later," I say, getting out of the car. 

"Okay." 

"See you then." The car door shuts and I storm inside. 

He doesn't just get to push me out of his mom's life. It would never fill my mother's place, but it may just may help me forget everything I've lost. And if not even that, he denied in front of his own mother. 

And it seemed like his mother was having trouble remembering things. Haven't I just been through that exact situation? Won't he let me help him?

Hours pass before I finally return to the mansion, and when I do, I'm a little embarrassed about how I snapped at him. If he doesn't want to let me into his family's life right away, that's okay. It'll just take some time adjusting, for both of us.

When I get to the mansion, Butch is madly dialing away at his phone. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" 

"Oh my God. I'm so glad you're here. I was just calling you. Have you heard about what happened?" 

I shake my head. "No... Is everyone okay?" Panic parades through my mind. Has someone come to shut down Oswald? Is the family okay? Where is my medical staff?! 

"Jim came asking for a favor from Penguin... He made him collect a debt to prove they were still 'friends'. It got messy." 

"Are you kidding me?" 

"I'm sorry. I wish I was." 

"Where is he?!" I demand. Is putting enough trust in Penguin to let me be with him not enough for him? What the hell was he thinking!? 

Butch motions to the meeting room. 

Before he can even warn me of Penguin's possible tempermant, I storm into the meeting room. Penguin's sitting in the 'throne' of the room, counting his money that my brother has no doubt collected for him. 

"Oh, hello!" He tries to greet me with that normal cheerful smile. 

"What the hell were you thinking?!" The door slams behind me. 

His men gaze between the two of us awkwardly. 

"OUT!" 

His men glance at their boss, who sends them out at my demand. 

Once they're out, he begins. "I know you're upset–" 

"Upset?! I'm– I'm infuriated! How could you do that?!" 

He furrows his brows, like he doesn't understand why I'm so pissed off. "It was just business, Sera. I don't want him to think he can ask for favors just because I'm dating you! Like he said, nothing is going to change."

I'm in such disbelief that I can't even answer him for a few seconds. Seriously? Isn't this kind of an advantage? The two can have favors with each other because of me. It should be a _good_ thing. He's unbelievable. If this is how the relationship is going to go, then I don't want to be in it. 

A scoff escapes my lips and I run out of the mansion and drive myself back my house. Butch tries to stop me, but I escape his grip and leave. 

* * *

 

I keep telling myself that I'm better without the criminal life, anyways. Penguin can find himself another doctor. Joanne is ready enough. She can take my place! I don't need them. 

Maybe after a while I can get in touch with Butch. He's an actual friend. The two of us can leave Gotham and go about our lives like we would've if Penguin wasn't around. 

"What do you want?"

James sighs through the phone. "I heard about the argument." 

"Yeah, and?" 

"And you knew he was going to make me do something for him in return. That's how it's always going to be with him. You know that." 

"Yeah, and I left." 

"Look, I'm just saying that if you're serious about dating the nut-job, you're going to need to accept that he's still a bad man. He's not going to change for you." 

I have to keep reminding myself that it's not Jim that I'm mad at. It's Penguin. "What did you need him to do, anyways?!"

"Loeb going to put in his resignation soon." 

"Jim!" I can't believe him, either. "I thought you were supposed to be in the law! That was _out_ of the law!" 

Again, a huff comes through the phone. "There were some things you don't understand, Sera. I had to do it." 

"There are always ways out of it. Haven't you been preaching that to me for a year?"

His voice is bitter when he answers. "Don't act like you're so righteous with me." 

I must be having an out-of-body experience. Jim and I have just about traded places. "Did Penguin tell you to call me? Because that's what it's really sounding like." 

"No," he says, calming down. "Gilzean did. He said it was pretty rough when you left." 

"Yeah, it was, thanks." 

"Are you going to be okay?" 

"I'm fine!" I hang up the phone before he can say anything else. Just as I'm about to go upstairs for bed, a knock reverberates through the house. "Who is it?"  

"It's me," Butch says through the stained-glass. "Look, I just wanna talk."

"About what?" I let him in, reluctantly. 

He steps through the door. "Are you about to go running?" 

"Yeah," I sarcastically quip, crossing my arms. 

"In this weather?"

Rain pitter-patters on the ground. "No." My tone is terse, to say the least. "I really wasn't expecting company, Butch." 

"I know, I know. I'm just saying you should really think it over. Penguin is... inexperienced at best in the dating scene. It's going to take a little while for him to get used to everything, y'know?" 

"Yes, I know." 

His brows knit together as he looks me over. "Is that your scar?" 

"Yeah." I pull down my shorts. The scar from the metal still looks pretty nasty on my thigh. It's bruised and feels like it could come open at any second (even though it won't, of course). Lee did a good job. 

"It looks gross." 

"Did you just come here to insult me?" 

The thick man shakes his head. "No, and you know that. I'm just saying seriously think about it, okay? He's not doing very well." 

"Do my feelings not matter in this at all– I mean, seriously? He nearly got my brother killed." 

Butch crosses his arms. "He knows that and he feels pretty bad."  

"Well when he want so to apologize, he knows where to find me."

"I know... Look, I won't keep you. And don't think I'm telling you to forgive him on the spot." 

"Did he send you here? I'm starting to think he has." 

"Nope. You're right. I'll be going. You have a nice night." 

I should just let him go. He's a part of the criminal world, whether he wants to be or not. And if I got him out, would he change? Or would he just jump into another gang? 

Just as he's about to his car, I call out to him: "Butch!" 

"What?" He says through the rain. 

"I'm sorry... I'm just frustrated..." 

"I know," his smirk is apparent even through the dim lighting of my porch. "Call me tomorrow." 

"You got it." 

 


	29. Remedies

I wait all throughout the night for Penguin to show up. Of course, he's a no show. Why would he be? I was the one that stormed out, anyways. He has more going for him now than when I was at his side. His enemies have less of an advantage over him, anyways. Am I to assume that our relationship is over?

But I _want_ him to fight for me. I want him to burst through the door and ask for my forgiveness. He would promise sweet things from that mouth of his and reconciliation would be available.

Just before I'm about to settle down, I remember the letter from Falcone. I run upstairs, get it out of my jacket and undo the envelope with shaky fingers.

 _"Dear Sera,_  
_I'm sorry that I had to meet you in such a way, but with the circumstances, I'm afraid I had no other choice. Your relationship with The Penguin has put it all at stake. I don't know if he's turned you against me._

_No matter what the case, I want to give you and your brother my sincerest condolences. It's not very often that people lose their parents as early as you have. How old were you when your father died? Nineteen at the most, I believe. I digress. If you ever need anything, I will always be here to help you both._

_Your father was a good man, and your mother was one of the kindest women I'd ever known. Even after Ben's death, she would still call me to make sure I was still around. I cannot thank you enough for letting me help you. It's truly been a blessing._

_I also cannot express how much I enjoyed working at your side. You love more passionately than probably anyone I've ever known. You have a compassion for the broken and different people of this world. That's a rare gift. I can only hope that Penguin sees that in you too._

_Your brother's praise is not often far from yours, but this letter is to you. Not Jim._

_If you ever need anything, call me. You have my number._

_Sincerely, Carmine Falcone"_

By the time I've finished reading the letter, tear stains streak down my cheeks. This letter is just for me, and it tugs on the very inside structure of my soul.

Penguin can never see this letter. There's too much information on it. If he were to see the address or phone number, he'd want to go after Falcone. Perhaps a few months ago, I would've let him. Now? There's nothing I can do but keep it hidden.

It's our last little secret.

When dawn comes over the jagged crevices of the buildings, I hand in my grim resignation of the relationship. If he wants to fix this, then he knows where to find me. After watching the sun peak through the dining room window, I finally manage to fall asleep.

* * *

 

 

I gasp awake, realizing the nightmare is over once again. In a groggy haze, I answer the door.

"Mmm. Hello?"

At first I register what I think are flowers, then the suit, and then finally his face. It's Oswald.

"Can I help you?" It slaps me awake like I've just stuck my face in a bucket of cold water. Oh dear lord. I must look awful.

"Sera," He doesn't even bother with formalities. "I'm _sorry_.  Will you give me another chance?"

I'm tempted to say no and shut the door in his face. I mean, look at him. His teeth are crooked and yellow; his hair is usually unkempt. And what about his personality? He's controlling, manipulative and murderous. There _should_ be nothing about him that is appealing... But he has my heart.

I motion for him to come in, which he does with a soft "thank you".

"I shouldn't forgive you," I begin, closing the door. "You nearly got my brother killed."

"I know," Oswald says. In a swift motion, he sets the flowers on the table. "And I shouldn't have done that. I'm one-track minded. You know how I can get." In another motion, he's right in front of me. Hands as gentle as a mother's touch cup around my face. "I'm sorry."

There's nothing more moving than a true apology... And I cave.

"I forgive you," I say through a sigh. "I forgive you."

His eyes close in a sense of relief. "There's never been one person I've cared about as much as you." Crystal green eyes open. In them is a contentment I've never seen. For once in his life, everything is turning out just as it should be.

A laugh escape my lips as I run my fingers down his arms. "Not even your mother?"

He scoffs through a chuckle. "Besides her."

And that's okay. It is one hundred percent okay with me for him to love his mother more than he cares for me. My mother had a higher priority over him! Why shouldn't his?

My lips press against his in a moment of sheer, quiet relief. He's fought for me, and he's won me back. His arms lace around my waist as mine wrap around his neck.

It's just he and I once again. Am I lost this time? Or am I found?

Passion hits like a baseball bat. No, this time I am lost. I'm lost in him.

* * *

 

Hours later, a phone buzzes. It's actually mine, I think... But it's Oswald who answers.

He rolls over, dragging my bed sheet with him. "Hello?"

"Penguin?!" I can hear my brother's horrified voice through the phone. "Where is Sera?"

"She's right here. Hang on." My boyfriend passes the phone to me.

"Hey, Jim. What's going on?"

"Are you okay? I'm on my way home. Please tell me Barbara's not there."

"On your way?! How close are you?!" This time, I'm the mortified one. Hearing this, both Oswald and I jump out of bed and hurriedly throw on clothes. "What's going on, Jim?!"

"Turn on the TV!"

"I'm not near the TV, but I will when I go downstairs."

He nearly gasps in horror. "Oh my God, Sera!"

"What?!" I can feel my cheeks growing hot.

"Where are you?!"

"I'm upstairs! Give me a minute!" I click off the phone before I can get any more embarrassed.

Oswald laughs from the other side of the bed, already buttoning up his suit.

I clamber down the stairs and switch on the TV as soon as I'm dressed.

"That's right, Gotham! What you're seeing is live! And who exactly are these 'Maniax!'? What are they planning to do?! Stay tuned to find out!"

The picture in front of my eyes is horrifying. Seven men are splattered on the road. Letters on their chests spell out 'Maniax!'. It's obvious to see that this is no doubt an act of the Arkham breakouts.

Jim's going to have to do some major overtime.

"What's going on?" Oswald walks downstairs and comes behind me. As his bony hands wrap around my waist, he nearly gasps. "Oh my."

James runs through the door. "So you've seen?"

"Yeah, it's all over the news..." My boyfriend comments, nodding to him. 

My brother frowns and slaps his hands. "Get your hands off my sister." 

Oswald raises them in his innocence and slips them into his pocket. "It's seems like you're going to have your hands full, detective. Now that the commissioner has resigned." 

That comment feels like a stab in the back. I can't believe Jim didn't tell me that he was going to go to Oswald in the first place. I would think that after everything we've been through, he would tell me if he was going to go see him for a favor. And shouldn't he think to go through me first? He's more likely to get what he wants if I'm batting my eyelashes at him. 

Even so, I take in a deep breath and relax. It's over and done. There's nothing I can do about it, anymore. 

James shoots him a sideways glance. 

"Anyways, we have to be off, Jim! We have work to do!" Oswald wraps his arm around me and starts to escort me out of the house. 

Before we can get two steps out of the door, James grabs on to Cobblepot's shoulder, yanking him from my side. "You're going to protect her." 

"Yes. I will." 

"No, I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. You will have your best men on her at all times. She will not get hurt while she's in your care. If anything happens to her. If I see even a scratch on her arm, I will find you and I will–" 

"Break every bone in my body? Yes, I get it," he shrugs off my brother's hand. "If you think I'm going to let something happen to her, you are severely mistaken, sir. Good day, Jim." 

James reluctantly lets us go. His blue eyes are nearly unforgiving in the cool Gotham breeze. He doesn't want to release me into the care of a murderer. It kills him inside to do so, but he knows that this murderer has my heart... and so like a father at a wedding, he gives me to the suited groom. 

* * *

 

"I'm actually behind on my work," I say once we get back to the mansion. "I need to get out to the other locations and finish setting up the warehouse." 

"Butch and Azariah will accompany you. I don't have any tabs on Joanne," he says, adjusting his suit. "I trust you can take care of it?" 

I mock salute him as Zsasz waltzes up. "Yes, sir." 

As Butch and Azariah come to my side, he looks like he's about to say one last thing to me. I even wait on it for an uncomfortable amount of time. Should we kiss in front of everyone? Or just hug awkwardly? Or just not do anything at all.

"Sera?" The lackey pulls me out of it. 

"Right. Well, see you guys later." 

* * *

 

"So reconciliation, yeah?" Butch asks as we drive along the road. 

"Yeah," I chuckle, pulling the phone to my ear. "We're good again. Hello, Joanne?" 

"Yeah?" She asks through the speaker. "Whatchya need, boss?" 

"Meet me at the last warehouse in ten minutes." 

"Sure." 

The phone clicks off and my eyes take to the streets. 

Gotham's song is quieter today. It's as if my mother's death has all but shut up the town. No one dares to cry out for help. There's hardly any pulsing feet or soft chattering. Doors don't slam, and  lights don't flicker. 

"The media's goin' nuts over the Maniax thing," he says, changing the subject. "What do you think about it?" 

I shrug, still lost within my own little world. "Yeah. It's something. I think it's just a passing fad. Once my brother gets it under control, Gotham will get back on it's regular schedule."

Azariah agrees with a nod of her dark head. 

Once we get to the warehouse, we waste no time in getting to work. 

"Is this just what you do all the time?" Joanne asks at some point.

I chuckle softly. "Not even close. Usually I'm jumping around to the different locations and making sure they're not imploding." 

"Yeah, but do you actually ever get to do like doctor work? I know you're usually caught up with the Penguin and all." 

At the same time, Butch and I exchange awkward glances and chuckles.

"Yeah, and?" 

"Everyone knows you and him are a thing!" The blonde laughs while she sets a few bags of fluid in a drawer. "I mean– do they? Am I not supposed to bring it up?" 

Perhaps Butch knows the answer to that one. Does Oswald want to keep our relationship a secret? "That's up to you, girl." 

"No. You can," I answer, smoothly. "And yes, we are. It's not too serious–" 

Gilzean doubles over in laughter. "Don't lie to her!" 

I shoot him a warning glare. What if I don't want all of my information just put out there? Still, I sigh and correct myself. "Yeah, I guess you could say it's serious."

Joanne smirks at my friend. "I could tell. All of us know it's _pretty_ serious, by the way." 

"What?! How?!" 

"People talk about that stuff," she shrugs. "Plus, it's not so easily hidden when you can't keep your hands off of each other and stare into each other's eyes all the time." 

"We don't– Okay, maybe a little– Okay, yeah. I get it." 

"But, I guess it's kinda good for you." 

"Why?"

"No one would dare try and hurt you. I can't even imagine what Penguin would do if he found out someone had taken you or something." 

Butch agrees. "Yeah. They would be dead. There's no question about it. The boss would find them, probably torture them and then slit their throats." 

"Well the last time I was hurt, he let Zsasz kill them," I remind him. On cue, my leg starts to ache. It's been doing that recently. If I'm on it too much, it'll slowly pulse in and out. It's like an occasional reminder of the shit I've gone through.

"What happened _'last time you were hurt'_?" Joanne quirks a light brow. 

The feeling in the room drops. Where it was once light-hearted and carefree, it's switched out with a malevolent, dark aura. 

"There was just a lot that happened. There was a war and–" 

"No, it's okay, Butch. I can tell her. Oswald started a war to overthrow Falcone and Maroni. In doing so, he kinda threw in everyone. There was a warehouse that collapsed on top of me. I was trapped for a day or so." 

Joanne gasps. "Oh my gosh!" 

"That's not all," Butch says. 

"There's more!?" 

"Yeah," I nod, setting down the last of the equipment. I don't want to tell her the rest. If she's going to take over my place in the family, I don't want her to chicken out. But will she? I knew about the risks, and I stayed. But then again, I had a love interest in the gang. "I was the only one on staff for Falcone, so I was kind of forced into the doctor position–" 

"He only had one person on his medical team?" 

"Yeah. Anyways, Maroni found out. He had his men kidnap me the night after I got home from the hospital. I wasn't supposed to make it out of the warehouse alive. He had his men torture me. Told me I was going to be used as a message. So they beat me until they saw fit, and then they tied me up to a fence right in the freezing cold." 

As I'm telling her about the trial, I realize that this could very well be the first time I've actually talked about what happened with Maroni's men. I probably very well should've gotten counseling. I should've talked about it before now. 

"Oh my God..." 

"Yeah," my shoulders raise up and down. "It's funny actually, I didn't find out until later that I was in front of a church near the docks. It was pretty ironic because of what he told me." 

Butch shakes his head and pats my shoulder. "It's okay. It's over." 

I don't need him to comfort me. I can do that by myself. Bitterness resides within my soul, and yet, I let him console me. 

* * *

 

Joanne meets back with us at the mansion after all the work is done. That's it for the warehouse set-up. The doctors and nurses have their orders and should be getting to work immediately. I also went ahead and made schedules months in advance, just in case someone has to cancel– or well, bites the can.

"So is that what you do all day?" The young girl asks. 

"Yeah. I mean, more or less." 

"It seems better than what I'm doing." 

"It comes with risks, y'know." 

"I don't think I would mind them." 

"Then do you want the position?" 

She laughs, like she thinks I'm sassing her. "No. I'm grateful for what you do." 

"No. I'm serious. I told Osw– The Penguin that once he was over Gotham that I wanted out of the gang stuff."

"That's kinda impossible. I mean, you are dating him." 

"Yeah, but he knows I want to be as least involved as I can be. My brother's a cop, Joanne." 

Her brows furrow together. "Is that why you've been bringing me around all this time?" 

"Partially. You have a heart for these people. Y'know, you were the only one to ever ask if they were in pain. It's something I can't look past." 

And suddenly, I feel like I'm taking all of Falcone's written words. This gang doesn't need me to be its head doctor. It needs me to support its leader. I could do both, but I don't  _want_  to do both. 

It's a lot for her to take in. 

"Look, you don't have to say yes or no right now. But I need to know if  it's something you're interested in, okay? Because if not, I need to find someone else to be training." 

The young girl nods. "Unlike you, I don't have to be in the law. I signed up for the gang. My dad can't make it on his own. It's extra money... and the GCPD is so corrupt already that it means next to nothing for me." 

"Well, I wish it wasn't true, but I understand." 

"So, I think I want to do it... Train me all you can Sera. You'll get out of this soon enough.


	30. The Most Beautiful Essence

"I'm sorry, Jim."

"There was nothing you could've done, Sera. It's really okay."

"I didn't know her too well, but she seemed nice."

"She was," my brother says, sadly. "Essen was my captain. She stood up for me when no one else would."

"I know, I know." I'd heard the story a thousand times. For Jim to hold back so much from me, he let me in on when people had his back.

Lee laces her arm through James'. "It's good to see you again, Sera."

My lips tug into a small smile at the woman."Hello Lee. It's quite the same."

"Where's Penguin?" Jim finally asks about the elephant in the room.

"Oh, he's working," I shrug it off. This time is not about me, nor should it be. "Just typical stuff."

Harvey shortly walks up and immediately engulfs me in a hug. "Hey, sister."

"Hello, Harv." I think that between he and Lee, I've missed him the most. We have a connection outside of Jim. We're a different story. He knew about my life when it was falling apart.  Lee didn't."How've you been?"

"Good. I miss our little late-night chats," he smirks.

"Oh, me too. Oswald would freak out if he ever thought I was sneaking out of the house to see a cop."

The three companions give me odd glances.

"We were around before Penguin," Bullock reminds, crossing his arms. "We should get priority."

"And you do." I laugh him off. Is it really that odd? He and I are practically living together, now. I would freak out if he was going to visit some connection with the opposite sex. It's a big deal for anyone.

"Anyways," Lee changes the subject. "We're going to get the people that did this. Barbara included."

"Yeah," I add. "There's no way you guys will let them get away with this. Jerome and the Maniax will pay for this. I trust you guys."

"That's right," Harvey pats him on the shoulder. "You about ready to head out, boyscout?"

James nods, sighing sadly. It pains me to see him walk away. Maybe I should hug him, or let him know I'm here for him. But are words really needed? He has Lee on one side, and his partner on the other. He has his law friends. Jim doesn't need me for his comfort anymore.

It's a nostalgic little reminder as I drive back to the mansion. He hasn't looked that sad since dad died.

"Welcome back," Butch greets with a smug smirk.

"Thanks."

"Hey, what's got you all down?"

I shrug. "Jim. Family junk. You name it, right?"

He rolls his eyes. "Well cheer up. I'm tired of seeing you all down in the dumps all the time."

"Alright." A small laugh escapes my lips as I step into the meeting room.

Oswald snaps for the few men around his table to leave immediately. And they do so without any complain or groan.

"How's it going?" I ask, walking over to his throne.

He welcomes my embrace with open arms. "It's all going to hell." His head gently rests on my chest, where he can listen to my heartbeat.

My hands file and play with his hair as he rants about how bad business is going.

"That stupid clown is throwing business in the can." Having said his peace, he glances up at me. "And how is your day going?"

"Well," my hands stop, just as my heart seems to do the same. His eyes are so piercing that it's like he already knows every word that's going to come out of them. "It's alright. I saw Jim. He isn't looking too good. The Captain's death is really taking a toll on him. It was weird, actually."

"What was?" His brow quirks. "That a bunch of freaks shot up the GCPD building? This is Gotham, Sera. It doesn't seem too far out there."

I narrow my eyes at him, but chuckle. "No. It was weird in a different sense. He has Lee and Harvey now. He doesn't need me to bring him any sort of joy and comfort. I'm just the sister he lost... Sort of."

Oswald thinks for a minute, like he's trying to understand the situation. "Okay, I get that. And that's why you have Butch and I now."

He's not helping.

"But he will  _always_ depend of you to get a sense of self-worth. You'll always be his little sister he has to protect. That's more than what both Dr. Thompkins and Bullock can do for him. Both of them are replaceable."

I try and push out of his grasp. "Don't even say that–"

"But I am," he easily pulls me back in. "Girlfriends and best friends come and go. It's a fact of life, babe. But relatives? They're with you till the end."

"Since when were you qualified to give me any sort of advice?"

His chuckle echoes throughout the otherwise silent meeting room. "Since you crawled into my bed."

"Speaking of, I want my own room in this place."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, like a place I can crash or gasp– be alone if I need to!"

"You have a house for that. And isn't my room good enough?"

"Have you seen your room?"

He makes a face saying ' _yeah? What's your point?'_

"And?"

"And there's books thrown everywhere. There's clothes everywhere. When was the last time it was vacuumed?"

"Point taken and noted. I'll see about getting a room arranged. I also don't mind staying at your house sometimes." His bony finger points on my arm.

"I think Jim's thinking about possibly selling it."

"Why?" His dark brows knit together. He knows how much I adore the house and how much I would hate to see it leave.

But I also hate to see it sit without being used.

"Because none of us are there!" I exclaim, flailing my arms. "He's always at Lee's and I'm always here."

"Maybe we could find some other use for it."

"Nu-uh."

"What? Why? Come on!"

"There's no way I'm letting it become a gang house. My mother will roll over in her grave. It's just not going to happen."

He scoffs, defeated and lays his head back down. "Fine. Worth a shot.... Can I just stay here forever?"

My laughing disturbs the soft rise and fall of my chest. His head raises. "Sorry, but you can't. We actually both have things to do. Business is in the can, remember?"

"Oh yeah," he glances at the paperwork in the giant table. "And you have a new doctor to be training."

"That's right. I'll catch you later." A firm kiss is pressed to his forehead.

"Hey, Sera." He stops me right as I'm at the door.

"Yes?"

He stops for a moment and just stares. It's like something's right on the tip of his tongue. He just can't find the words to say it.

"Have a good day."

* * *

 

"Okay, so you're going to have to put together a little chart for inventory. Osw– Penguin won't just send his men over here to magically fill up the supplies. You'll be in charge of going around to each location and making a list of the supplies that we're low on." 

"Right," Joanne nods, glancing over a few of the charts I've made in the past. "And who do I give them to when I'm finished with them?" 

"That would be me." 

She chuckles, "I thought you didn't want to be involved with the gang." 

My eyes narrow as I sip on my soda. "Hey, I'm still in charge of you, whether I'm actually in the family or not." 

"That doesn't make sense." 

"Yes it does," a smirk tugs on my lips. 

All of the sudden, we're interrupted by another voice. "Hello, ladies." 

Oswald takes a seat beside me.

"Hey. I thought you were supposed to be working?" 

"I was," he plants a kiss on the side of my head. "But, we've mostly got everything taken care of, so I decided I needed a break. Hello Joanne, is it?" 

The blonde nods very softly. Her normal, go-lucky, out-going personality fades into a shy, introverted on. 

I chuckle. "You can talk to him." 

Again she bobs her head, like she's afraid to say two words to him. 

Even he catches on and laughs. "I'm not sure this whole 'head doctor' thing is going to work out if you can't hold a conversation with me."

"I'm just– it's weird. He's like your boss." 

Both of us burst out into laughter. 

"Honey," Oswald says, folding his hands in front of him on the picnic table. "We both know that she's more the boss of me." 

Her bright eyes glance between the two of us. "It's just that you have so much influence... I don't know why you'd ever want to invest in someone like me. I mean, I'm still a teenager." 

"And that's why I'd like you on my top team," he explains. "Younger people like yourself have a different view on the world. That perspective can often come into use. Think of it as fresh thinking, per se."

Is my thinking not fresh enough for him? A pang of jealousy hits my stomach like a sucker punch. It's hard to focus on anything except for that gutting feeling.

"Sera," Oswald nudges me in the side, bringing me back to reality. "Don't you agree?"

"Hmm? Yes, of course. I've been preaching this to him for weeks." I wink at the young girl. "I'm glad he finally caught on."

"And how old are you?" She raises a light brow at me. "You can't be too much older than I."

"Oh, I'm twenty-two," I shrug. That reminds me... My birthday's only a few days away. "I'll be twenty-three in three days."

"Will you?" My boyfriend looks surprised, like he's forgotten all about my birthday.

I never understood why girls gave their boyfriends so much hell for forgetting an anniversary. I'm pretty sure Oswald and I are on our fourth- fifth month together? The years are all that matter. And he's so focused on work that my birthday must just get lost in the numerous dates he has to remember.

I don't think it's that big of a deal. Even I forgot about my own birthday.

A small laugh echoes from my thin lips. "Yeah. Yeah it is."

"Oh, we have to throw a party!"

Oswald agrees with a nod. "We'll get the whole family together."

"I bet I can get in touch with her brother and his friends at the police department."

"No, guys." Honestly, I can do without a party. I had one once growing up. Yeah, a lot of people showed up, but I didn't enjoy it. I would much rather only be in the company of a few. Close, tight knit groups mean more to me than any extravagant party.

"You don't want a party?"

"No thanks. I'd much rather celebrate with a small group of people. I'm not much of a party person."

Cobblepot smirks, folding his arms. "Huh, isn't that a shock?" Sarcasm drips from his lips. The last time we were at a large "party" was when I went with my people at the GCH. They ended up drunk, and I ended up leaving to go live my double-life.

"Maybe because you called all of my friends 'sad'."

"And then you told me they weren't your friends." He shakes his head, resting his elbows on the table. "See what I have to deal with, Joanne?"

The girl chuckles, rolling her eyes at the both of us. "I think you're both unbelievable."

He and I shrug at the same time. "Well.... You're not wrong."

"Anyways, how old are you?" The blonde turns her attention to Oswald.

"Me?" He furrows his brows like he doesn't know. "Twenty-nine, maybe? I don't really know. My mother keeps up with that." 

"Of course she does," I snicker, folding my arms across my chest. "God, you're old." 

He narrows his eyes at me, playfully. "I  _think_."

"You know what that means, right?" Joanne smirks. "It mean that he could also be older, too."  

I mock shudder. "I'm sorry, but it may be a deal breaker if you're older than thirty-three."

He rolls his eyes and laughs along with us. 

"Robbing the crib, aren't you, Penguin?" 

"Whatever!" Our laughter fills the warehouse. 

This is my family now. Jim has Lee and his police friends. And now, I think I'm okay with that. As Joanne, Oswald and I laugh about nothing at all, a sense of contentment washes over my soul. This is who I belong with. It doesn't matter if my actually "family" is my support system. Butch, Joanne and Oswald are. And in them, I am perfectly okay. I am safe. 

I'm no longer Sera Gordon. I'm someone who doesn't fit in with the mold, anymore. 

* * *

 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Joanne." 

She waves to us from her car in the driveway, and then disappears into the Gotham night. 

We spent the rest of our day showing Oswald around the facilities and things of that nature. For the most part, it was purely professional. 

"Hello?" 

"Hi, Sera. It's Lee."

"Yeah. What's up?" I ask through the speaker. Oswald quirks a brow, but I wave him off. 

She clears her throat, "Well, there's going to be a charity ball tomorrow night. I was wondering if perhaps you'd like to attend?" 

"Who all will be there?" 

"Bruce Wayne, Jim, myself and a few other important people. I hear there'll be a magician." 

"A magician?!" I mock enthusiastically, "I can't miss it if there's going to be a magician!" 

She laughs through the phone. "So would you like to come?" 

"Sure," I shrug. "Can I bring you know who?"

"Uhhhh– I'd prefer if you didn't. It'd be good for you to get away from it all, I think. Think of it as a girl's night, sort of thing." 

Even though I'm reluctant to go anywhere without Oswald, I agree. "Sure. What time, where?"

"I'll text you the info." 

"Alright. Bye, Lee."

"See you tomorrow." 

"Who was that?" Oswald asks as soon as I shut the phone. 

A chuckle leaves my lips as I pocket it. "Lee. Were you not just listening?" 

He give me a 'not really' face that makes me roll my eyes. "What'd she want?"

"Oh," I shrug. "I'm going to some charity ball thing tomorrow." 

"And I'm guessing I wasn't invited." 

"Nope. She wants it to be a girl night kind of thing." 

He sighs, like he's reluctant to let me out of his sight. "Well, perhaps it'll be good for you to get out of the mansion once and awhile." A strained smile tugs on his thin lips.

"I'm glad you're on board with it." 

"Why wouldn't I be?" He chuckles, wrapped his hand around my waist and escorting me up the stairs. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be up in just a few minutes." 

A few minutes turns into a few hours. I can hear him talking and ordering his lackies and men. Something must've happened. And so I wait, and wait, and wait. 

* * *

 

When he finally comes upstairs, I'm drifting in and out of consciousness. Sleep is like an old friend just ready to embrace me. 

He sighs as he shuts the door.

I think I can hear him unclothe and don the pajamas I set out for him. Shortly after he crawls in bed. The heat from his eyes burn into the back of my head. Perhaps I should address him, but I'm just too sleepy. 

"Sera?" 

"Mmmm?" 

His hand runs down my arm and he plants a soft kiss to my head. "I love you."

Everything stops, including me. My heart stops its pulsing; my stomach butterflies kick and fight with each other. The very air in my lungs rushes out. 

I roll onto my stomach to get a good look and him, and for him to be able to look at me. His crystal green eyes blaze into mine. Every single thing about him just looks flawless. Even in his crooked teeth and unkempt hair, he's every single thing I can ever need. And so I sit up, and scoot to the edge of the bed, away from him. "No, you don't. You don't want to love someone like me." I'm emotionally unstable. I'm a hormonal mess. I'm an imperfect being. "I'm a wreck," I say, wrapping my arms around myself. 

He climbs to the edge of the bed and shakes his head. "But I do," he promises. He doesn't try to touch me, or swoon me with carefully knit words. He just says it like it is, this time. "I love you, and there's nothing you can do about it. There's no way that you could be any more perfect for me." 

"I love you too." The words leave my lips before I have the time to even think about them. 

"Do you though?" Oswald asks, shaking off a piece of his tender tone. "Or are you just saying that because you don't want to disappoint me?"

I shake my head quickly, but do I really love him? He's put me and my family through so much hell. He's selfish, arrogant and inconsiderate. He's put his mother ahead of me– his mother, who he doesn't even see that much.

But–

He's loved me for who I am. He's become my best friend, and now he's my family. Love isn't about whatever they've done in the past. It isn't about  **me.**  Love is selfless.

"Yes," I answer, honestly– genuinely. No truer words have ever left my lips. "Yes. I do love you." 

He tries to take in my answer, like he's deciphering if I told him the truth or not. When he figures it out, the simplest, most handsome smile I've ever seen places itself on his lips. "Good," a tender kiss is planted on my lips. "I was hoping you'd say that."

 


	31. Nobody Likes a Bad Magician

"What are you going to wear to this thing tonight?" Joanne sips on her soda. 

I shrug, taking a bite of my sandwich. "I dunno. What should I wear? I mean, it's a ball, right? It's supposed to be fancy and stuff?" 

"Yes," Butch quips. His thick figure calmly strides into the nearly empty dining room. "It's a charity ball, and you're supposed to look extremely nice. It's a formal event, Sera." 

"Do you even own anything beside scrubs and tee-shirts?" 

"Yes," I say. "I have that black dress that I bought for my mother's funeral! Can't I just wear that?" 

He rolls his bright eyes. "Well this ain't a funeral, hotshot. Ask the Penguin to buy you something nice." 

A scoff echoes throughout the room. My arms fold defensively across my chest. "I'm not going to ask my boyfriend to buy me a dress. I have my own money."

"It's the principle!" Joanne agrees with Butch. "It's like letting him spoil you. Guys like to do stuff like that." 

The lackey nods. "Right." 

"I heard my name," Oswald walks in with a quirked brow. "What happened?" 

Butch crosses his arms. "She doesn't have anything to wear to the gala thing tonight. And she doesn't want to ask you to buy her something–"

"I have my own money, Butch!"

"She doesn't understand the whole 'guy buys girl gifts' things yet." 

"Ah," he plants a kiss to the top of my head. "But she will. Would you like to accompany us, Butch? Joanne?" 

"We're going now?" 

He nods, checking his watch. "The charity event isn't too far off. I imagine you'll have to run home, do your makeup and hair. There's plenty of preparation to be doing." 

"Can you actually take off work, just like that?" 

He shrugs. "I practically run Gotham, babe. Why not? So, is anyone up for it?" 

Butch shakes his head. "I'll stay here."

"Yeah," Joanne agrees with a terse sigh. "I have work to be doing, anyways. You two have fun!" 

"Sure." 

* * *

 

"Mmmmm– not that one." 

"No?" I twirl in the black, sparkly wrap dress. "I like it!" 

"It's not  _you_. Try this one on!" 

"Whatever–" I take a pink champagne colored, long a-line dress– at least, I _think_ it is. I honestly can't tell the difference between an a-line and a tea-length. The bottom hangs down to my feet while the top accentuates the curves of my bust and waist. It fits in an illusion-top style... perhaps. Diamond-like jewels cover the sheer material. "What do you think?" 

His crystal eyes dance over the dress like he's seeing me for the first time. In the moment they meet with my hazel ones, Oswald's mouth opens to say something, but instead stutters.

"It's– it's–" 

"Is it that bad?" A frown pulls on the smile that just dawned upon my lips. "I can go change."

"No," he redeems himself. "No. It's– It's gorgeous, Sera."

"You like it?" I give it a twirl. It checks off the only two things I look for in clothing. 

1\. It's not itchy. And 2. It covers the vital parts. 

"Yes!" He protests, practically pushing me over to a mirror. "Don't you?" 

I shrug, giving it another spin. "Yeah, actually. I think it's pretty." 

"It is," he agrees, standing behind me. 

For a moment, I'm lost in our reflection. He's so emotional in this one moment. In fact, he's practically beaming with pride at us. And I? I'm so stoic. Only a thin smile dares to touch upon my lips. I feel like I should be joyous at this somehow miraculous sight with him, but I can't help to get sick to my stomach. 

I double over, nearly knocking over the full-length mirror. 

"What's wrong?" His cheerful feel fades and replaces it with worry. Oswald grabs onto my arm to keep me from falling. 

"I feel sick." 

"Let's get you out of the dress and we'll go home," he files his hands around my back. "Are you going to be able to go tonight?" 

"I don't know!" I snap in a moment of pain. "Just help me get out of this thing!" 

He agrees, following me back to the dressing room. 

"How am I supposed to– oh, there's a zipper. Okay." 

Getting out of the damn dress with him is more of a struggle than it would be if I was doing it myself. But I asked him to help, so I suppose I should let him work. Finally we get it off. He hangs it back up as I clothe myself back in the tee-shirt and jeans I was wearing. Together, we pay for the dress and quickly leave the store. 

He parades me with questions as soon as we step into his car. "What's going on? What's it feel like? My mom has a billion home-remedies I could try and remember when we get home. Would you like that? Is there anything I can do?" 

"Oswald Cobblepot, so help me," I begin, gripping onto the handles of the doors. 

"What?"

"If you ask me one more question pertaining to my condition, I will eat you alive."

At that, he nearly cracks. A wide smile perches on his lips and he struggles to keep himself together. "Mmmm. That's a bit kinky for you, isn't it?" 

I roll my eyes in agony and curl myself into the tightest ball possible. "It feels like I'm about to throw up, and I'm cramping at the same time." 

"Cramping?" He arches a dark brow in confusion. 

My glare gives him the answer he's looking for. 

"Oh... Ew. Now I'm  _really_  sorry." 

"You better be." 

"Have I ever told you how cute you are when you're frustrated?" 

"Then I'm about to get real adorable. And wasn't that a question? I think I told you that if you asked one more question, I'd kill you or something–" 

He chuckles, paying no more attention to me. The babbler pouring from my lips is just pain– that's all it is. "Yeah, something like that."

* * *

 

"Is Joanne here?" Oswald rushes me into the mansion.

The blonde pulls her hair back in a ponytail. "Right here, sir. What's wrong?"

My body plops into the nearest chair. "I just feel like I'm about to throw up- and I'm cramping. It's everything."

Butch scrunches up his nose of the idea of my period.

Joanne rolls her eyes and pulls my own hair back into a short, messy ponytail. "I can get you some Ibuprofen and a heating pad."

"Ugh. Not the heating pad." I hate the thing.

"Ibuprofen it is," she sighs and exits the room.

Oswald tries to comfort be by rubbing my shoulders. Normally, I'd take it in a heartbeat. Instead it makes me irritated.

Finally my apprentice returns with a handful of medication, a pad, and a bottle of water. I quickly down the water and medication. "I'll be right back," I snatch the pad from her hand and run to the bathroom.

I can't hold it in anymore. My lunch comes up from my stomach. It burns my Esophagus and nose all the way up.

When I come back, the cramping pain finally starts to ease. And the nausea is completely faded. But now all I want to do is sleep in Oswald's arms for the rest of the day.

"Where is he?" I quirk a brow. On the table is a curling iron, a straightener and various articles of makeup.

Joanne glances up from adjusting her makeup. "Oh, he's in a meeting with Butch and a few other important guys. He told me to tell you that he loves you, and that you don't need to go to the ball if you're not feeling up to it. He also wanted me to give you this."

It's my locket. It's the locket that he gave me months ago! It was right after Maroni kidnapped me. It was the going away gift.

"Did he say anything about it?"

"Yeah. He said that he found it after he apologized or somethin'. Like he found it at your house and he didn't want you to forget it."

"And he just kept it for weeks?"

"No. He said he forgot about it too."

A soft laugh pours from my lips as I sit in one of the dining room chairs. There's no use in me sitting around sulking at the mansion all day. I'm also kind of excited to get to go out and do something exciting like this. "Are you ready to work for a living?"

Joanne fiddles with the curling iron in her palms. "Of course."

* * *

 

Four hours later, I'm just about ready to head out the door. My apprentice helps me slip on my dress and some black shoes she let me borrow.

"Dang! You're lookin' good, mama," she winks, adjusting some finishing touches on the gown. "I could never pull off something like this."

"Thanks," I twirl, taking in the whole look in a nearby mirror. I feel as though I'm actually living up to my Queen of Gotham title. Is not the King's Queen supposed to be the fairest in all the land? Is she not supposed to make all of the maidens in the kingdom desire her very apparel? Tonight, that's exactly what I'm doing. "You're a miracle worker!" My arms wrap around her neck. "Thank you for this. You certainly don't get paid enough."

She slips her hands in her pockets, nonchalantly. "Happy to do it. You've become my friend, y'know."

"I feel the exact same way."

Her gaze softens as our eyes meet.

Just as I feel like saying something touching, Oswald calls from downstairs. "Sera? Are you ready yet?"

"Yes, sir!" Joanne says for me.

The two of us walk down the stairs. It's the very best I can do not to trip in these heels– which I do, twice in fact.

"Wow..." He slips his hands into his suit pockets and simply stares. The heat from his eyes usually make me uncomfortable. This time, however, I relish in it. I accept it. The heat fuels a passion within my very heart.

"You like?" I spin around, giving him a view of the whole arrangement.

His arms open, and he embraces me one of the tightest hugs I've ever gotten from him. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he whispers into my ear.

"Where's the locket?" Joanne asks, bringing us out of the intimate moment.

"I figured there so much on the dress already that it was going to be too much. Am I right in thinking that?"

"Of course. I was about to tell you to take it off if you still had it on."

"Right well, you're about to be late," Oswald plants a soft kiss on my cheek. "Have a good time. I love you, and I will see you later." 

I wave a the chauffeur basically pushes me out of the door. "Bye guys. Love you too."

My three last words roll off my tongue just like they did before. It's quicker than I expect, and certainly I would've thought to blurt out in front of Butch and Joanne. Still, it comes out before I have the time to reel it in. 

* * *

 

"Sera!" Lee embraces me. "I'm so glad you came!" 

"Yeah," I smile at Jim's girlfriend. "I'm glad too. So, there's going to be a magician?" 

"Yes! I haven't met him yet, but I hear he's one of the best." 

A soft chuckle pours from my lips. "I suppose we'll see." 

"There's a table over there that Jim and I are going to sit at," she points to the appropriate table. "You can go ahead and take a seat if you want." 

"Sure." 

"Hey, you're– you're Sera Gordon, aren't you?" 

A familiarly unfamiliar voice comes over my ears. It's a kids voice, but a serious one. Bruce Wayne– well. Perhaps I should've known. I do believe the whole charity event is hosted by the Waynes. 

"Hello again, Bruce. How are you? Hello, Alfred." 

The butler nods curtly, folding his hands behind his back. "Hello." 

"Have you heard anything about what we've discussed?" 

Guilt pangs in my stomach. I should've been paying more attention! My promise to him is taking an awfully long time to fulfill. 

"I would've come and told you if I knew anything. I promise I'm keeping my ears out. The mob doesn't talk about stuff like that very often. I know they don't trust just anyone with a project such as yours." 

"I'm just wanting to know if you're still on our side, Miss Gordon."

Bruce agrees. "After Penguin came into power, we weren't too sure you're still loyal to the law." His dark eyes gaze into mine like no others. Lee's are nearly the same color, but Bruce is too serious have a light-hearted stare.

"How do you know about that? About he and I?" 

"People talk," the kid says. "Does this mean our deal is of–"

"Come on, Bruce. She's not going to tell you anything." Alfred nods over to their table, I'm assuming. "You're better off just leaving her alone. This woman's trouble." 

"Bruce, I promised I would tell you if I heard anything. I'm still living up to it. Everyone in the gang knows I'm Jim's sister. They're not just going to waltz up to me and tell me what I need to know." 

The Wayne boy pulls away from his butler's grasp. "But you're their head doctor, and their boss's girlfriend." 

"I'm not their head doctor for long. I'm actually training someone right now. Someone who needs the income more than I." 

Alfred lets out a breath of warm air. "Well, that's all good and fine. Train up some young person to take your place in helping the very people that've killed Bruce's parents. I'm sure he'll find solace in that." 

"There's a very fine line between right and wrong," I say, narrowing my eyes at the older gentlemen. "I'm sure you know about that, war hero." 

"You're even beginning to talk like your boyfriend!" 

"Alfred, please!" Bruce shuts up his lackey. "But I am curious, do you still feel the same way that you did before you and the Penguin were romantically involved? Do you still want to see the crime in Gotham shut down?" 

"More than anything," I say. "It kills me to watch him organize crime like it's his hobby. But I'm already beginning to change him, I think. At least, I hope so. Right now, I feel like I'm doing more on the inside than I can ever do from the outside."

"I appreciate your willingness to help me, Sera. I'll be happy to assist you in any way that I can."

And with that, the Wayne family disappears behind a curtain. 

I hate lying to him like that. But that's the one way I can actually finish out my promise to him. I don't think Oswald's changing. I just think his one little shred of humanity is changing positions. If it came down his mother and I, I think it would kill him, but he'd still choose his mother. 

* * *

 

The event begins with Lee as the MC. There's a few applauses, some words, and then the magician comes out. He's alright, I suppose. Nothing too interesting, but I suppose I haven't seen any better.

Lee and I sip on champagne as we watch the extravaganza. 

Bruce gets chosen to be a volunteer, which is exciting to say the least. Alfred seems a little nervous about it though. Take a drink, old man. Relax. 

And then things turn from okay to horrible. 

It's Barbara. I can see it in her eyes as she winks at someone– oh my God. She's letting Lee know it's her! 

Panic runs through my veins and body. Someone has to evacuate these people, but it's too late. Jerome reveals himself and Barbara to the audience. Gunshots go off. The situation turns hostile. Lee is taken up on stage and taken hostage. I think I can see Barb taunting her. Maybe if I could just try and reason with her, she'd stop this nonsense.

The clown dances around in front of the camera like he's some sort of super star. There's nothing I can do, and it kills me. Gunmen surround the area, searching for anyone who might be calling for help.

All of the sudden, a certain Theo Galavan steps up. He gives a noble  _'don't take these people'_  speech, but I think it's very clear to everyone that it won't happen.  Jerome dismisses him and has his guys watch his every move. I'm quite surprised he didn't kill the poor man on the spot! It's odd, actually.  

"His parents were murdered in an alley and my favorite volunteer! Where is Bruce Wayne?!" 

We all quickly glance around for the boy who's disappeared. Thank God. The worst thing possible is for him to let Jerome get to him. 

"Did you know I'm an orphan too, Bruce? I killed my parents though. Where ARE you hiding?" 

He holds a knife in his palms and glares at the audience. I can feel the heat of his eyes land right on me. 

"Bruce! Where are you buddy!?"

From the back, Barbara takes a stand. "Kill his butler!" 

The sound of cocking guns fill my ears. If something doesn't happen, I'm going to make a run for the old man. If nothing it'll be a distraction for Alfred to actually do something. Bruce cannot survive without him. He's the one person that the Wayne boy has left. 

"Alright, last chance Bruce, but it's about to get very bulter-brainy out here." Again, he asks for the boy. Why doesn't he just get his men to find him? Have them search the entire area! 

No. It clicks. This whole phenomena is just a giant show. The Maniax are trying to scare Gotham into something– that's not hard to tell, but what?

Perhaps I should be more terrified that there's two psychos running the building. No, I've already had my lifetimes share of unfortunate situations. Not to mention, I deal with crazy people every day. No, Jerome doesn't scare me, and neither does Barbara for that matter. I'm worried for Bruce, and for Lee. 

"Brucie!" Another moment passes. "Eh. I'm bored. Shoot the butler." 

I'm ready. I'm going to get up and run as soon as everything begins. Alfred and I make quick eye contact. But I can't read him! I can usually read everyone!

Damnit, Sera! 

Does he want me to stay put? 

Or does he want my help?! 

Bruce Wayne runs out from behind a curtain. "Stop!" He and his butler share a few words. I can't make out what they're lips are saying, but it's quick and rushed. 

Jerome comes behind the boy and holds a knife to his throat. "Let's get this started, huh? You, check behind the curtain."

It's useless. He's going to find any–

Jim shoots him in the chest. Alfred whips out a gun from his jacket. Gunfire ensues. Jim takes care of the men on the left while the butler takes the men on the right. Together they get rid of the henchmen quickly and easily. 

"Drop the knife!"

Breath seems to leave my lungs as Jerome laughs. It's nerve-shaking rattle of a laugh. It makes me want to run up and take care of the psycho, myself. The clown threatens to slit the boy's throat. 

"I don't have a clean shot," James announces. 

Alfred follows his words. "Stay calm, Bruce."

The boy looks terrified, but like he's okay with accepting death. He doesn't cry or beg to be let free. His lip quivers nervously, but he stands stoically. 

"Looks like we've got ourselves a pickle. What do you say, Brucie boy? Wanna boost our ratings? Huh?" Hysterical laughter fills the ballroom. "Smile!" 

"I said enough!" Theo Galavan stabs the crazy in his neck. 

Gasps are heard from almost everyone in the crowd, but not me. No. Death seems to walk on my trail like my very own shadow. Death varies from good people to, in this case, the right people. 


	32. 525,600 Minutes

As the blood trickles down from Jerome's chin, I'm reminded of my own blood; the freezing blood that poured from my aching body as I was hung from the fence.

Suddenly, that's all I can think about. The pain and fear overwhelms my body. Everything's bloody. My hands are, Theo Galavan is, even Bruce's worried smile is smothered in blood.

My brother and I meet eyes for a second as he frees his girlfriend.

I can't stay here.

"Sera!" He calls out to me, but I'm already gone.

"Ma'am, is everything alright?"

"I'm fine!" I wave off the EMS people and continue to run. My head aches. It pounds. I feel like I've been running for an eternity.

The pounding ache returns to my thigh.

Jim grasps onto my arms. Maybe I haven't run as far as I've thought. "What's going on?!"

"I can't- I can't shake it, Jim!" I plea to his eyes, dripping with the thickest blood I've ever seen. Suddenly, I know it's my fault.

All of it is.

"I'm sorry, Jim!" My shoulders shake uncontrollably. There's nothing I can do to save him. He's alone. He doesn't have anyone else left in his family. "I'm sorry I can't do this!"

"You're having a PTSD attack," he grips harder onto my arms. "Nothing is happening, Sera! Come back to me."

He tightly wraps his bulky arms around me in a hug.

His blood stains my dress and warms my chest. Any moment now, he's going to drop. Instead, it's me that falls to the ground. Jim follows me to the ground and grabs onto the sides of my head. All I can see is the blood.

"It's okay! You're okay, Sera! Come back to me! Come back to me!"

My chest rises and falls in a state of panic. He's dying. He's dying because of me.

"I- I can't!!"

I yank myself out of his grasp and start running again. The next thing I know, I'm out the door of the plaza.

Medical staff and police ask me if I'm alright. I promise to their bloody faces that I'm fine, but I keep running.

My chauffeur's parked just on the corner. I practically jump into the car and demand to be taken to the mansion. I can't see his face, but I can see the red liquid pouring from his ears.

"Ah!" I scream into my hands. What is going on!?!

Everyone is dying.

The chauffeur aids me into the mansion– even against my screaming protests.

Oswald, Joanne and Butch run out from the large house.

"We saw it on the news!"

"What's wrong?! Did he hurt you?!"

"Are you okay?"

Their faces are bloody, too.

I've pushed aside my trauma for so long that it's just all pouring out now! Tear streaks no doubt stain my face as I try to make sense of the image I'm seeing.

My knees buckle from under me when I see the wound to Oswald's chest. It looks like someone's speared him. Oh, and Joanne! She has a bullet wound to the front of her face. Butch looks like someone's taken a knife to his frame over and over and over!

There's nothing I could've done to stop it.

"Get her inside," Oswald orders harshly.

Butch and Joanne get on either side of me and aid me into the mansion. It still holds the same glorious design, but there's blood splattered on the wall. It's my friends.

"She's having a PTSD attack," Jim's voice says from the door.

"AGH!"

Oswald files his bloody hands through my hair. It sticks to my every strand. "What?"

My brother speaks in that sad, sorrowful tone I can always recognize. "She's having some sort of PTSD or panic attack. It happened when Galavan was killing Jerome."

"But she's used to seeing blood," Butch shakes his head, like he doesn't understand. "Why would that trigger it?"

This time, Joanne answers. "Sometimes even just a look can trigger an attack. I'm thinking that with the rush of tonight's events, it just set her off."

"What would've– oh." Oswald kneels right in front of me. He grabs onto my head, just like Jim did. "Come back to me, Sera. I know you're in there."

I can't. Oswald's making it worse. The memories from him make the blood pour faster and thicker than before. Suddenly, I feel like I can't breathe. Sweat pours from my pores, like the red, hot liquid slowly dripping from Oswald's.

"Where is she?!" Harvey Bullock breaks through the door. Almost instantly, he pushes Cobblepot aside and nearly drowns me in his hug.

The familiar scent of cigars, alcohol and some sort of cologne I can't name floods my nostrils. The warmth of his blood stops staining my light dress. Even though my breathing is heavy and uncontrolled, it eases in his embrace.

"Stay with us, Sera," he strokes my hair softly. "Stay with us."

The blood on the walls fade back into their place of nothingness. Oswald's wound heals, as do Joanne's and Butch's. I'm back.

And the most embarrassed I've ever been in my life.

"I'm– I'm sorry," I pull myself out of Harvey's embrace and slick back my hair. "I- I didn't know that was going to happen. I apologize."

Oswald shakes his head, sitting in the chair I was just in. "Don't ever say you're sorry for things like that, Sera."

"He's right." Harvey and Butch agree in unison.

"You don't have any control over it," Joanne comforts.

Jim pushes himself off of the wall he was leaning against. "This time, I'm on their side. There's nothing you can do about it except go to your happy place and try to gain control."

"I've-" My breathing is shaky and unsteady. I feel as though I'm about to collapse just from sitting on my own, again. "That's never happened. I don't know what happened there. It was like I couldn't get control."

"That happens in a panic attack," Harvey sits in one of Cobblepot's chairs. "You'll never get used to them."

"I've gotten used to the nightmares," I shrug.

In the moment, the saddest feeling comes over all of us. Even Oswald has to close his eyes. It's like none of them actually expected me to change from the shit that I've gone through.

Guess what? That's life. Innocence is lost and we get used to feeling fear every single time we sleep.

"I'm sorry," he says, clenching his jaw. "I am."

Butch follows him. "Me too. I'm sorry that you've been through so much that panic attacks have been brought on."

"Maybe you should see an actual doctor." Joanne suggests with a nod of her blonde head.

All of the sudden, the clock strikes midnight... and it's my birthday.

Jim scoffs, shaking his head. "I'm sorry that in twenty-three years of being alive, I haven't been able to protect you from this shit once."

The room is silent.

"I need to get back to Lee. So do you, Bullock."

His partner stands and plants a kiss to the top of my head- even as Oswald gives him a possessive glare. "Call me," Bullock says, pointing to me as he follows Jim out. "if you ever need a break from this nut-job. I'm serious."

The door shuts and the three of us sit in an awkward silence.

Oswald pouts, crossing his arms. "I'm  _not_  a nut-job."

Joanne groans in annoyance at her boss who can't see past his pointed nose that I'm still visibly upset.

"I want out of this dress," I announce. Standing, Joanne and I retreat up to Oswald's room. She helps me get out of all the glitz and glamour of the night. I wipe off the makeup and let my hair down into bouncy curls.

"I'm serious about seeing a doctor," she says, turning away as I slip on pajama pants and a tee-shirt.

"I know."

"Then take my advice. You need to get evaled."

She turns back around at my command. "You're good, and I'm fine, Joanne. Honestly. I'll be alright after a good night's rest."

She rolls her bright eyes. "I don't believe it. What did you tell Jim when he got back from war, huh?"

I forced him to get counseling. Hell, Barbara and I even tag-teamed him into getting an evaluation at a counselor's office. Now, he didn't exactly stick with it, but I did. I went for two years after dad died. When Jim returned, I was in the best place I probably have ever been in all of my life (before dad's death- of course). "That isn't the same thing-"

Joanne's hand grabs mine just as I reach for the door. "You can't tell me that. It's exactly the same thing, Sera. You were in the middle of a gang war! Your boyfriend's a mass murderer and a gang leader! Your mother's just died. Jim is...Jim.  It's just snowballing. What's going to happen when Harvey isn't there to pull you out of the attack, huh?"

I jerk my arm away from her.... but she's right. The girl has a lot insight for only being nineteen years old. "Don't you think I've thought about that? I don't know, Joanne. Okay? I just don't know."

"The only way you will is if you get some help! That's the only way to ensure your safety, and of everyone else's around you."

I would never want to hurt the family. Especially not my closest relatives. But I will if I don't get the medical treatment I need to.

She and I quietly converse as we walk downstairs.

Oswald's wrapping up one last meeting in the large room, and we wait outside. Half an hour passes before they emerge. "I will see you all tomorrow."

"Tomorrow- like later today tomorrow?" I inquire, standing from the dining table. "Or like tomorrow, tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow tomorrow," he clarifies. "It's your birthday, babe. I'm spending it with you."

"Good." A smug, small little smirk plants itself on my lips.

"Goodnight you two," Butch waves. "I'll see you later."

Joanne follows him shortly after.

Finally, it's just us two left in the mansion.

"I'm sorry I had to be seen like that–" An apologie spills from my lips once again. Pull myself out of his hug. "I hate when that happens. I hate looking weak."

Oswald scoffs. The heat from his body is almost non-existent behind the layers of his suit. He hugs me from behind and rests his head on my shoulder. "Don't ever say that. You never look weak to them. If anything, you're the strongest woman there is."

"Why's that?"

The breath from his soundless chuckle tickles the back of my neck, making me giggle. "Because you have to put up with me, of course."

* * *

 

"What was it like?" He finally asks in the early morning hours.

I untangle my skin from his "What?"

There's been something bugging him for the hours we've been together. Tonight wasn't the same, unrelenting love I've been used to. It felt... Off. Perhaps he's finally going to ask about it.

"When you had your attack. What did you see?"

Rolling onto my back, I stare at the ceiling. Do I tell him the truth, or do I lie to him to make him feel better?

"Blood and wounds. I guess your typical PTSD stuff. Everyone was covered in it."

He's just waiting on me to continue. His crystal eyes stare straight into mine. They seem more curious than concerned. Maybe he's gotten all of that out.

"Jim's eyes were dripping with blood. Joanne had a bullet-wound to her forehead. Butch was stabbed multiple times." I can't believe he's making me relive this stuff. Even as I try and get through it, I can feel my eyes blink faster than I'm used to. My breathing gets more unsteady. "And then you– you had this massive wound to your chest." 

He protectively wraps his arms around me, and draws me to him. "It's over now," he soothes. "I'm sorry I asked." 

"I just had the one idea that it was all my fault. I couldn't save you. I couldn't save anyone. Everyone was dying, Oswald." 

His crystal eyes meet mine. Clearly he's upset over the things I've seen. But why? He isn't going through it. I am. As far as I'm concerned, it's none of his damn business. 

* * *

 

My birthday is filled with surprises, food and friendship. 

First Oswald treats me with bacon and pancakes for breakfast– which is my all-time favorite. He invites Joanne and Butch out to go shopping with us. Of course, we're not going for boring things like clothes. He buys me a beautiful knife. Joanne decides to gift me with a makeup kit (since all of my makeup is years old), and Butch gives me a journal. 

"Thanks," I unload their gifts at the mansion. "Who's hungry?" 

The blonde raises her arm. "Oh! Oh! Me!" 

"You're always hungry," Oswald smirks. 

"I mean look at her!" Butch motions to her thin figure. "She's practically a fence post!" 

"Ruuuude." 

"Lunch is on me, guys." 

* * *

 

As sunset begins to fall over Gotham, Oswald takes me by the hand. "Come on, I have one last surprise." 

The three of us follow the gang leader into his old club. 

"Surprise!" 

Jim, Harvey, Lee, Martha, Mark, Matthew, Edward– even Rachel shouts out from the bar. 

Disbelief runs over me. "Oh my gosh!" 

There seems to be hundreds of people packed into the club– including people I don't know. 

"I hope you don't mind me inviting a few of my hospital friends!" My nurse friend wraps me up in a hug and plants a kiss on my cheek. "We have to catch up on a night that's not your birthday." 

"Of course! We'll have lunch!" I didn't even know her all that well, and she wants to learn and know me. What have I ever done to her but hurt her?!

Lee wraps me up in a hug. "Happy birthday!" As soon as her smile appears, it fades. "We need to talk about that panic attack, alright? But not tonight." 

"Yeah, sure." 

Harvey's next. "Happy birthday, sister. Have you had a good day?" 

"Yeah," I laugh, slipping my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. "They spoiled me." 

Jim nearly pushes him out of the way. "Happy birthday, dorkus." 

"Whatever, punk!" 

"Happy birthday, Miss Gordon," Edward nods from beside Jim. "I certainly hope you've had a lovely day." 

Our conversation is interrupted by a small, blonde-headed boy. "Sera! Sera! Happy birthday!" 

He runs straight into my arms. "Well, thank you, kind sir! " 

"It's official!" Mark grins, holding a piece of paper in his hands. "We're Gothamites!" 

Suddenly, I'm reminded of the trouble my family's getting themselves into. My smile fades, but only slightly. "Welcome to Gotham. I hope you like it here." 

"I'm sure we will," Martha hugs me– almost identical to my father's warm embrace. "Happy birthday honey." 

Only a shadow of a tears dares to streak down my face, but the feeling's there. As Oswald promises free shots to all in the crowd, I'm overwhelmed. 

Everyone is here because of me. I've impacted these people– obviously in some good way, because they're at my damn birthday party. I don't deserve any of this! 

"We have your favorite drink tonight," Oswald smirks, placing a tender kiss on my cheek. 

Instead of harvesting my emotions and letting them get the best of me, I decide to get raging drunk. 

Hell, it's my birthday, after all.


	33. Soul-Searching For Two

 

Four o'clock in the morning isn't easy to come by– especially for me. But still half-drunk, I walk down the wooden stairs onto the lowest, tile floor.

There's something intriguing about silent houses. They're even more captivating if they're usually buzzing with chatting and loud arguing. 

But tonight?

There's no loud buzzing of phones or chattering of city officials. No chairs scratch against the floor, and there's no quiet shuffling of stepping (or waddling) feet. I feel as though I should probably make some sort of sense as to why I had the panic attack, but instead, I think on other things.

Where would Kara be if I had saved her that time so long ago? How would Butch be feeling if I actually got him out of here? Where would I be standing if I helped Jim shut down the gang– like I promised?

Soul searching at four in the morning is not my idea of fun, but I continue to explore. The depths of my heart have been locked away. It's only tonight in this half-drunken haze that I dare to wield the key.

I let the guilt consume me. It burns, like I've been drinking bleach. But I like it. I deserve it, after all. So many people have lost their lives and jobs because of me. Who's to keep me from wallowing in self-pity every once and awhile?

When I peek out of the window, Gotham's skyline looks like a jagged, misshapen box of flickering lights and neon signs. I've been so far away and so distant that I've forgotten to even pay attention to it's song.

I focus my ears on the city. The song comes in; it's distant and vague, but it's so refreshing. 

The mansion doesn't have a song. When I'm here, all I can understand is the incessant cry of broken people. All it consists of is unsteady, white noise. It's taxed on my emotion for too long. I'm ready for another song to play.

And it does. The beat from the flickering lights return, and although I'm too far away to hear stomping feet or conversation, I can imagine it. The pulse beats through my chest like it's calling me... Or no, that's my stomach.

I make a dash for the downstairs bathroom and puke. Oh God. I drank way too much.

Even when I try to think about the night, I only remember bits and pieces. And the party just ended three hours ago.

Still, when the nausea is gone, I brush my teeth and lay beside my sleeping boyfriend.

He looks so much different when he's in a deep slumber. It's like all of his responsibility and cares have melted into the very pillows he rests upon. His features are graced when they're not so strained. Even his breathing is far more peaceful than when I've heard it before.

It's a sweet reminder that he's still  human.

* * *

 

"What're you–" 

Once again, I'm awoken by the horrible pang of nausea in my gut. I make a run for the bathroom and puke my guts up. 

Oswald rubs his eyes and slowly walks into the bathroom. He shivers when his feet touch the freezing-cold, dark tile. 

It's at this moment that I envy how well he can keep down his alcohol– well, not too much. He's practically a functioning alcoholic. 

"Sera," he grunts in disgust at the liquid in the toilet. He clenches his jaw to keep from doing the same. Even in all of his repulsion, he uses his bony, soft fingers to pull my hair back. "I'm sorry." 

More of the party comes back to my memory. Oswald let everyone have shots. Around that point, Martha's clan decided to leave– as to not let Matt see all of us intoxicated. 

It goes blurry for the rest of it. I remember talking to Jim about...  _something_.

"It's not–" Bile and alcohol burn my throat and nose when I try and speak. Just another color adds to the pile. "your fault." 

"I know," he says. "It just sucks." 

At that moment, a knock comes onto the bedroom door. 

"Boss? Boss. We need to talk. Business is going to shit and we need you." The buttery sound of Butch's voice washes under the thick, wooden door of Oswald's bedroom. 

He sighs and runs his free hand over his face. "Not no–"

"Go to them." 

"But you're–"

"I'm fine." I flush the toilet and slowly, shakily stand. "I can take care of myself." Even though my head pounds and my throat burns, I'll be alright. This isn't the first hangover I've dealt with without Oswald. 

He's halfway dressed when he answered again. "Are you sure?" 

"Positive." 

Washing my face with cold water makes me feel a little bit better. Showering helps my stomach even more. The heat from the pulsing water relaxes my system. It puts my soul at ease when everything else seems to be out of control. 

An hour or so later, I slip on some comfortable clothes and walk downstairs. 

"You like you've been partying." Joanne smirks at my lack of formality. 

Hazel eyes roll towards her statement. "No shit, Sherlock... What about you? You were at the party." 

"You mean you don't remember?" She sets out a slice of toast for me. 

I nibble on it as I shake my head. "No. I don't. I remember bits and pieces, but the rest of it is either dark or a blur." 

"Well, I don't blame you," the blonde takes a seat beside mine. "You were pretty wasted. Well, Oswald ordered shots for everyone. Your family left. Everyone stayed." 

"Please tell me I wasn't the only one completely out of my mind?" 

"Oh, no. Everyone pretty much lost it." 

"That's a relief." 

She chuckles, "Right. No humiliation for the Sera today." 

"We'll see." I continue on my toast. 

There's an awkward silence for a few minutes, like there's something she wants to say, but just doesn't have the guts to. It puts me on edge. I finish off the breakfast and lean back in my chair. 

"So, what's on your mind?" 

"What?" I pull her from her stare outside the window. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're usually chattery and loud. What's going on? Is your dad alright?" 

"Oh," Joanne, too leans back in the wooden chair. "He's fine, just like always. No, Sera– just. I've been seeing some worrying signs." 

"Like what?" 

"Like, um– you can usually hold down your drinks pretty well. Recently, you've been puking them up. And what about the whole fiasco where you thought you had started our period?" 

"Yeah," my brow arches at her in curiosity.

"Did you start?"

"Nah, but that happens sometimes. I'm very irregular." I try and laugh it off, but there's still something she's not getting at.

"And the whole PSTD thing? Your hormone levels must've changed. You were fine befo–"

"I just think after the stress of the night, it was triggered." 

She files her fingers through her long hair. "I thought that too, but after looking over your symptoms– I'm afraid something else might be going on. Did you puke this morning?" 

I nod.

"And the morning before that?" 

I bob my head again. Both nights I had something to drink. 

"I think you may be pregnant, Sera." 

Twenty-thousand emotions like drugs inject into my bloodstream. I feel the highest I've ever been, but also the sickest. It's the largest rush of emotion that I've ever felt in all my life– but I don't believe it. 

I laugh her off. "That can't be possible. I mean, Oswald and I– we use–" 

The look she gives me makes me re-examine our past encounters. There was one time that not everything went as planned.

 In all of my life, I have never felt so proud, and so ashamed. 

"Shit." My head plops onto the table. 

Joanne runs her hands on my shoulder. "I brought you a pregnancy test." 

How could she be so sure that I was pregnant that she brought me a damn test. I snatch it out of her hands and run upstairs to take it. 

I wait anxiously to see the test. Not once do I dare to leave the bathroom. 

Finally, it comes back. 

"Oh my God–" My knees buckle from under me. I fall, hard onto the bathroom tile. 

Joanne knocks on the door, obviously having sat there for some time. "Sera? Are you okay?" 

"Oh my God." 

The unrelenting, cold realization that I could be carrying a child dumbfounds me in such a way that I cannot even fathom. It's the most beautiful feeling in the entire world, but also the scariest. My breath leaves my lungs like I've just fallen from a two-story building. I gasp for air.

"Sera!" 

Soft weeping must come to her ears, for she tries to kick in the door– in which she succeeds. The girl yanks the test out of my hand and reads it. 

"Jeez. I thought you'd died or something." Joanne tosses it on the counter and kneels beside me. 

Perhaps she does all of that. I can't quite recall whether or not she does everything in that order. I'm too far lost within myself. 

What am I going to do? Will Oswald be supportive? Will he kick me out for it? 

"I need to– I need to tell him." 

Joanne shakes her head and grips onto my shoulders. "Before that, you need to go to the doctor and make sure everything's okay. It could be a false positive." 

I visibly agree. It's just so hard to speak. 

She takes the phone out of my hand starts dialing away. "Yes. Doctor Harris. I need to make an examination appointment for Sera Gordon. Yes, she took a pregnancy test this morning and it's positive. What's the earliest you can get her in?" 

A pause. 

"Today? At four?" She peers over at my as she asks it. "Yes. That sounds great. Thank you so much." 

Still, I rest within the comfort of disbelief.

* * *

 

Hours later, after I've pulled myself together, I walk downstairs. 

"Are you alright, honey?" Oswald follows his multiple leaders out of the meeting room.

Even just looking at him sends pangs of emotion to my stomach. "I'm fine." 

He doesn't believe me. The father of my child places his head on my forehead, then addresses Joanne. "Does she feel feverish to you?" 

She shakes her head, immediately. "I don't think so. We're actually going to the doctor later." 

"Oh?" He quirks a dark brow in my direction. "For what?" 

"It's a gyno appointment," I quickly cover my tracks. "Just checking out the girl parts. Y'know, just in case something's wrong." 

He shrugs, seeming to have believed it. "Yeah, you two have fun." 

"How's the business going?" 

"It's going to shit. That stupid clown has thrown off everything. People are scared and lashing out. The moment we lose control is the moment all power is lost. They need to be reminded that there is no higher power in Gotham than this one." 

"Yeah, I'm sure." 

" _'Yeah, I'm sure'_." He mocks my tone as he files his fingers through my hair, still not entirely convinced I'm alright. "Are you sure you're okay?"

The color must leave my face like I've managed to physically die, yet still stand.

"Boss, we need to talk." A man I don't recognize pulls Oswald's gentle gaze off of me.

He huffs, but nods towards the man. "Let me know how the appointment goes."

As he waddles away, I can feel hot, steamy moisture rise to my eyes. It stings more than it has before; perhaps because I've already cried so much this morning.

"What's wrong with you?" Butch asks. 

I wipe away the tears. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong." 

"She's preggers," Joanne tells him quietly. 

I snap. This is not going to be spread across the entire family. Oswald will not let it be. A rumor like this could be catastrophic. "Keep your mouth shut, Joanne. If Penguin finds out you've been telling rumours throughout the family, you will lose your tongue." 

"Hey, easy. I was just telling him." 

"Yeah, and now he's obligated to go and tell his boss!" 

The lackey files his hands through his short hair. "I won't tell him, not unless he asks. Our secret is safe, but Sera... What will you do?" 

"I don't know." 

* * *

 

"Welcome! Who will I be examining today?" 

I shyly raise my hand at the OB.

His laugh bellows through the room. "Don't be shy, dear. My name's Dr. Harris." He shakes my hand generously. "And you are?" 

I return his gesture with the smallest of smiles. "I'm Sera." 

"And your friend called for you, saying you had a positive pregnancy test, right?" He slips on gloves and asks Joanne to pull back a curtain as he examines. 

She does so, giving him some detail about how she came about her conclusion that I was pregnant. 

"Ah, ah." He nods behind his surgical mask. "Wait, you've been drinking?" 

"Yeah," I say. "Yesterday was my birthday... and I got super wasted." 

I can see him frown, even through the mask. "Alright. Did you know you were pregnant?" 

I shake my head. 

"Okay... Do you have intentions of keeping the child?"

I hadn't even thought about it. I could just get rid of the fetus. Oswald wouldn't have to know, and life could go on just has it had before.

But then again, I don't want another death on my head. 

But this thing is just a fetus. It's tiny, itty bitty, right? I could probably get the procedure done today if I asked him to. 

"You don't have to answer right now." He continues to ask me different questions regarding some weight gain, spotting, when my last period and so-on. 

It's all confirmation that this is a real event. I'm not just dreaming it up. It's happening. 

"I'd say that yes, you are getting there. Right now, the fetus is _tiny_ ," he explains, cleaning up his area. "Come back in two weeks, and we may be able to hear the heartbeat. I generally don't see people this early, anyways. I just made an exception for you ladies." 

I feel like my life would be so much easier without it, but now that it's confirmed, I'm strangely joyful. There could be so many more things wrong with me. I could on the streets, or dead. But instead? I'm carrying a beautiful little life. 

"I'm going to keep the– the baby." 

Joanne looks more than shocked as she walks out from behind the curtain. "You are?" 

"Yeah... I mean. Yeah. I am." 

I feel like I have to somehow justify myself, but I remember that none of this it up to her. It's my child. 

* * *

 

Joanne buys me some dinner as we talk about plans and baby development. 

"Oh! And then we'll make a room at the mansion! It'll be so cute! We'll call him _'Baby Penguin_ '! I can see it now!" 

I can't keep my laughter to myself. "Yeah, sure. Knock yourself out." 

"When are you going to tell him?" 

"I don't know. I may bring him to my next appointment in a few weeks. Let that tell him." 

"He'll notice the weight gain before that." 

"Will he? I mean, I doubt he'd bring it up, even if he does." 

She shrugs as we step out into the cold, Gotham air. 

I don't want my child to be raised here. Gotham is a dark, cruel place. Our child will just be another leverage point against Oswald. Everyone wanting to possibly rise to power will know that our kid is where to do it. 

* * *

 

When we get back, Oswald and Butch step out of the meeting room.

"Hey! How'd the thing go?" 

"Oh, it went great!" I chuckle softly as Joanne whispers to Butch. I have no doubt within my mind that she's telling him of the confirmation. 

"That's good to hear." 

"We need to talk," I tell him as he wraps me up in a warm hug. 

"Alright, just give me a little while. I still have a few crucial meetings and then you have my attention for the rest of the night." 

"Promise?" 

"I promise."


	34. Under Siege

Joanne and I talk amongst ourselves as we wait for Oswald to get out of his meeting. Eventually, she goes home to her father, and so I retreat upstairs. He'll come up when he's ready. 

The bathroom mirror is larger than any mirror I ever had in my mother's house. It's wide, and nearly stretches across the entire wall. So, I walk inside the large restroom, close the door, and simply stare. In my black hoodie and dark jeans, I feel like I fit right in with the ambiance of the restroom. Perhaps if I stand alone long enough, I'll become invisible. 

But I'm not alone. 

Slowly lifting up the lower-half of my shirt, I gaze at the reflection of my stomach. There's soft pink stretch marks along the bottom, but that's not from the pregnancy. No, that's from gaining and losing weight all my life. But there's something different about it all, now. Normally, I'd be looking at myself in hatred. I'd be wondering why Oswald even cares for some as ugly as I. 

Instead, I'm– I'm happy. It's like every struggle I've ever gone through is redeemed. Every single death I've caused is repaid. All by this child who doesn't even have a heartbeat, yet. 

"Sera?" A knock comes on the bathroom door. 

I walk out to greet Butch, who's Tourette's seemed to have gotten worse over the past few weeks. He can't help but blink and wipe his brow. "Yes? What do you need?" 

"Oswald left the mansion." 

"Oh," I shrug it off. "Maybe he was just going to a loc–"

"He left with a woman." 

"There are women in the family Butch."

"But I didn't recognize this one," he says, shutting our bedroom door behind him. "Normally I keep pretty good tabs on whoever Oswald comes in contact with. 'Cause, y'know, you're like the best thing that ever happened to him and–"

"Get to the point!" 

"And I don't know this girl. She was all dressed up. By all means, she was gorgeous. She spoke two words to him and then was gone." 

A breath of hot air leaves my lungs. "I don't believe he'd cheat on me, Butch," I try and smirk, but I can't help but feeling worried. Anxiety comes over me like an old friend. "If anything, it's just a business trip. Maybe something's wrong with his mother." 

The lackey shakes his head, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I just didn't want you to be blindsided if he comes back and thing are different." 

I can't help but snap at him. "I'm pregnant, Butch." It's a warning tone, but a sharp one at that. "Don't make me anxious. I don't want to have another attack." 

He bites down on his jaw in frustration. "I'm just saying, Sera. Take it how you want it." 

* * *

 

Hours and hours and hours pass before Oswald finally returns home, and when he does, my heart sinks. Even in my grogginess of the early morning, I can tell he's very visibly upset. In fact, just looking at me, tears form in his eyes. But he doesn't say anything. He simply stares for a minute and locks himself in the meeting room. 

Butch quirks a suspicious brow at me, but calls out to him. "Is it alright if I head home, boss?" 

"Yes, Butch." He doesn't bother to unlock the door, or give him a time to come in the next day. 

The thicker man points his finger, letting me know that he was right. The irrefutable sense of heartbreak starts to parade at my soul. 

After the door shuts, I practically run to the meeting room. "Oswald?" I knock on the thick, wooden double doors.

"Do you need something?" He asks. The door doesn't open. He doesn't even get up from his seat. 

"Um, yes?" I frown, leaning against the door. "I told you we needed to talk... but now I'm feeling like we do, even more." My hands run over the smooth design of the wood. 

"Can I help you?" He finally answers. Oswald's eyes are puffy and thick. His cheeks are bright red, as is his nose. 

I fold my arms across my chest, defensively. " _'Can I help you?_ '?" I inquire about his tone. "Yeah, you can. Tell me what's going on?" 

Gotham's king reluctantly lets me in, but sighs. "There's just so much you don't know about, Sera." 

"Like what?" I snicker, standing in my usual spot as he takes his seat. I feel even more alarmed when he doesn't wrap me up in a hug or lay his head on my chest. 

He stares at the bottle of wine on the dark table. It's like alcohol has become his comfort, and not me. "Just... stuff." 

Every alarm possible goes off in my head. I have to sit by him. "Butch told you me you left with some woman." 

"Did he?" He sips on the glass, nonchalantly. 

"Did–Did something happen?"

"Yes."

Every single motion in my body stops. It feels like I've just jumped off a cliff. 

"Did you? Did you cheat on me?" 

He narrows his crystal eyes at me, like I'm the dumbest person in the whole world. 

"Don't be mean to me!" I hiss. "I'm serious." 

"No, I didn't. There's just other stuff going on, Sera!"

"Well, you either trust me or you don't. Which is it going to be?" 

Oswald lowers his head, sadly. What happened to his soul? It's suddenly like every shred of light within it has faded. It kills me. "It's not that I don't trust you... there's just too much going on, right now." 

"I want half of what you carry," I say, interrupting him. "If you want this to work, I want to be a part of your life. Including your struggles." 

"Can't you just drop it?!" He slams his hands on the table, making me jump. 

Obviously, there's more than I can handle. Whether he's cheating on me or not, he needs to chill out. I've tried to do nothing but love him and be there for him. I don't deserve that.

When I storm to the door, he groans. "Sera. Sera!" 

"What?!" 

"What did you need to talk about?" 

I don't even want to tell him, anymore. I just want to leave the horrid house and all of it's horrid people. 

He stands, setting down the bottle. "You can tell me..." 

"Can I?!" I bark. 

Oswald walks over from the table. His bony fingers wrap around my own. "Yes. I'm sorry I snapped. I will explain everything... just tell me what's going on..."

Funny. I can say the exact same thing to him. Instead, I just sigh. "I'm pregnant, Oswald." 

All of the color from his face leaves. When he responds, it's only in a whisper. "Are– Are you sure?" 

"I went to the doctor yesterday. Yes, I'm sure." 

His knees almost buckle from beneath him. He wraps his arms around my neck in a swift motion.  In a moment of fear and panic, I grab onto his shoulder. 

"Oswald..." My hands run along his shoulder and back. "Babe, it's okay.... It's okay. We can work it out." 

"No, no. I know. I know." 

His crystal eyes gaze at me like I'm the most peculiar thing in all of the world. Before I can ask him about what he thinks, his ear is pressed against the soft fabric of my hoodie. Once he finally gets in control, he turns his attention to me again.

"There's something bad going on, Sera. If you know  _any_  of the details, you could be in danger too... and I'm not going to risk that." 

I trust him. From the show he's just put on, I trust him with everything I can possibly muster. "So what am I supposed to do?"

Without answering, he clambers up the stairs. "Pack your things. You need to get out of here." 

"Where am I honestly going to go?" 

"You can't go back to your mom's house. I'd actually like for you to get out of Gotham, but I don't have any safe houses outside of the city." 

"But I don't want to leave."  My safety isn't just about myself anymore. I no longer get the right to be selfish. I have a living being in my body. My life is not my own, and it will never be. Every risk I take can be fatal to the child's. 

"I don't care, Sera!" 

I pull out my clothes and help him pack a few suitcases.

"I have a safe house on the edge of Gotham. No one knows where it is. I'm going to take you there, and you're going to stay until I come and get you. You can't leave with anyone else, okay?" 

"Okay, jeez." I fold my arms as he carries the bags down the stairs. "What am I going to do? Can I tell Jim?" 

He seems reluctant, but eventually, he nods. "Yes, you can tell him, but be sure he doesn't know where you are. If he can, he'll get Jim– Just forget about it. We need to go." Oswald loads up the two suitcases into his car and starts it. 

I get into shotgun as quickly as I can. "Wait, wait, wait. Is Jim in trouble?" 

The King of Gotham heaves as he drives away. "Every single person in Gotham is, Sera." 

* * *

 

"You should be safe here," he unlocks the door to an old, rickety looking apartment. It's not his mother's, but the structure is similar. "Remember what I said. Don't tell anyone where you are. Don't go outside and keep the curtains shut." 

Even though I'm all for staying safe, it seems a little excessive that I have to basically stay under house arrest until he comes to get me– which who knows when that will be.

"There's a lady that refills the grocery supply every Saturday. That's the only person you should be letting in, Sera. Do you understand me?"

He's sounding more and more like my brother with every breath he takes. It's frustrating, but there's a sweet feel to it.

"Yes, I understand you." 

Oswald releases me arms in a moment of relief. A heavy sigh escapes his lips.

"Can your mother come over at some time? I'd be happy to have her over and talk about plans and stuff." 

I can physically see his heart break when I mention his mother. In a moment of overwhelming sorrow, he wraps his arms around my head and struggles to keep himself together. Ah... He doesn't have to tell me what's going on anymore. By the sound of his anguish, I know what's happened. 

"It's okay. If you need to, you can get my brother in on it... He will do what he can from inside the law." 

He takes in heavy, unsteady breaths. "No, I can't. No one can do this with me. I have to be alone." 

"I love you." It's the first time that I've initiated the words. 

Oswald nods, lightly holding my face. "I love you too..." A pause, and then he looks down at my stomach. "Yeah, and you too." 

"You're going to figure this out," I tell him. Somehow, we've both managed to grab a hold to the ever-parading truths. "You will. I know you will." 

He also gathers up what remains of his gall. "You're right. And then I can come get you, and we can do this right." 

"Exactly." 

The softest, sweetest kiss is placed on my lips. It's also the hungriest I've ever felt for him. 

"I'll see you later." 

"Promise?"

"I promise."

After Oswald leaves, I feel extremely overwhelmed. The world has just come crashing down, and I've just had to wear in on my shoulders for two minutes. Because that's what it's like being in love with the man who runs Gotham. His weight is my weight.  But now I have no way to carry it. He's locked me away.  And I think perhaps for our child's sake, I'm okay with it. 

* * *

 

"So, where are you, exactly?" Jim asks over the phone.

"I'm not even sure. All I know is that I'm in one of Oswald's safe houses on the edge of the city. You need to go and figure out what's going on with him. I think his mom's been taken or something." 

"Huh," he flips through the files on his desk. "I thought she was supposed to be like The Penguin's little secret."

"Ask him about it, okay?" 

A groan comes through the speakers. "You see, that's kind of hard to do right now." 

"Why?" 

"There's a new Captain in town. Barnes. Have you heard of him?" 

"No..." 

"Well, he's extremely by the book, Sera." 

"What, like you?" 

"No," I can hear the grave tone in his voice. "He' s way more uptight than even me, Sera. You need to lay low, like he's suggesting–"

"Gordon!" I hear the man's voice from the background. "Do you have a new lead?" 

"No sir! It's just my sister, sir."

"Why did she call you at work? Gimmie the phone." 

Jim sighs and hands over the corded telephone.

"Hello? Who is this?" 

"Sera," I say, switching on the TV. "Sera Gordon." 

"Where do you work, Miss Gordon?" 

"Consider me a retired nurse. I used to work at Gotham City Hospital, but due to health conditions, I needed to get out of the business. I would get back in it, but I'm on bed-rest," I lie.

"For what?"

"Well, I was just about to tell my brother that I was pregnant, but you interrupted the call. Thank you for your time, Barnes. I'd like to speak to my brother again." 

The Captain seems a little distraught that I was able to shoot him down so quickly. "Well, congratulations. Here he is."

"Hey, I'm back." 

"You cannot tell him I'm the Penguin's girlfriend!" I plead, wildly. "I don't want to be locked up." 

"Don't worry, the secret is safe with Harvey and I." 

"What secret?" He calls from the other desk. 

James scoffs at his partner. "So, what he ask? What'd you tell him?" 

"Just the truth," I sigh. I really don't want to tell him right now, but now that I've already told his boss, I have a feeling it won't be a huge secret for long. "I'm pregnant." 

"Oh my God. Are you serious?" 

"Yes, I'm serious! Keep it to yourself, okay? That's why I'm in the safe house." 

"Yeah, no. I get it. I just can't believe–" he shudders. "Can I tell Harvey?" 

"Yes, but warn him that if he doesn't keep his mouth shut, I will skin him alive." 

He sighs though the phone, but agrees. "You got it... What does  _he_  think about it?" 

"He's supportive of it. I didn't expect him to be any other way, honestly. I'm glad he's happy about it." 

"Yeah," James huffs. "I bet he's worrying himself sick. Sorry, Sera. I gotta go. We'll talk later." 

And the phone clicks off. As it does, the TV announcement catches my attention. 

"Who is this assassin and what does he want against the politicians of Gotham?"

Replay of Theo Galavan's speech shows a car that looks vaguely familiar to Oswald's... Oh, no. As I take a closer look to the man in the scarf, I recognize how familiar he is to my boyfriend.

I have no doubt in my mind that it  _is_  him. Get whoever it is, Oswald. Get him, and take back what is yours.


	35. The Midnight Hour

The days that pass seem like months. Not only am I locked away in extreme solitude, but I wait by my phone every day for the call. It'll be Butch, and he'll be telling me Oswald didn't make it out. But each time Oswald answers the phone, I'm relieved once again and talked off the cliff of despair. 

There isn't too much to do in the house, so I spend most of my time watching TV and writing. Even in the time that I spend at the safe house, I manage to nearly fill up the entire journal that Butch gifted me for my birthday. Each page is an endless letter to my child. I typically enjoy to write on the balcony, overlooking most of Gotham city. Oswald must've paid a fortune for this one apartment.

She or he continues to grow. Every single second is a constant reminder of what's happening. It's such a beautiful, amazing emotion that leaves me on a permanent high.

"I can't wait to finally be with you again," Oswald confesses one late night. 

I sigh through the speaker, half asleep. "I feel the same way–" My thoughts are taken by the TV. Apparently, they're hunting Oswald down pretty hard. Captain Barnes urges the public to give up Oswald's location. 

They think he's responsible for everything. Which, technically he is, but from what I'm understanding, he can't help it. They've busted up one of his money locations. That's gotta be a hard hit. 

"They're getting closer and closer, babe. You gotta get this thing under your thumb." 

It's his turn to heave, "I know, I know. I'm doing the best I can. Listen, Butch is under cover for me. You can't get into contact with him for the next few days." 

"Is he going to be safe?"

"No one's safe, Sera. So no, he's not. But, um, you're not going to be very happy with me, but–" 

"What did you do?" I prepare myself for the worst. Maybe he's turned himself in! Maybe he's made Butch confess to the murders of the mayor candidates! 

"I cut off his hand." 

I physically cannot believe it! Butch, who has done everything The Penguin could ever ask from him, does not deserve that kind of treatment! "Are you crazy?!"

"Well..." I can sense his shrug. "But that's the only way I can finally play off my paranoia! It's all just a game!" 

"I can't believe you did that! He's done nothing for you but help you!" 

"And he continues to do so. Don't forget he was once my enemy." 

"He's been by your side through everything! Who aided him?" 

"Joanne, of course." 

"Was she okay with it?" 

"No..." 

"Good! She shouldn't be." 

The roll of his eyes is apparent even without him sitting in front of me. "Look, Sera. I have more important things to be worrying about than my own lap-dog. My mother is at stake!" 

"Don't call him that." 

He inhales sharply, giving up on the argument. "Can I come see you tomorrow?" 

My heart immediately softens. He's been saying for a few days now, that he wants to stay away for as long as he can. I don't blame him. There are eyes following his every move. Coming out to a secluded hideout is sketchy, to say the least. 

"Sure," a soft chuckle fills up the empty space of the apartment. "It's not like I have anyone else to keep me company." 

"Well, you have someone, but they can't exactly speak yet." 

"Right. We have to start thinking about names, y'know."

"What about Anna, if it's a girl... and Liam if it's a boy?" 

"You can't just pull those out of your sleeve." My laughter reverberates off the nearly-empty apartment walls. "We'll work on it, okay?" 

"Alright. I love you. I'll be there tomorrow." 

"Love you too. Bye." 

* * *

 

The night is filled with unpleasant dreams. I'm overtaken by the idea that I'm not in control. Oswald is a city away doing God-knows-what. Butch is in the clutches of the enemy without a hand! Joanne is left to fend for herself in a position she isn't ready for, and Jim is so close to death anyways! Everyone dies. There's no way I can possibly save everyone. 

Even as I pull myself out of my dream, the hot, sticky feeling of blood starts to drown me. 

"AGH!" 

My phone buzzes violently on the nightstand. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey, Sera. Is everything okay?" 

I take in a few deep breaths. It's only Joanne. I'm safe. I'm okay. "Yes. Do you need something?" 

"An explanation would be great," she huffs. "Your boyfriend's gone off the deep end! He chopped off Butch's hand and–" 

"Yes, Joanne. I know. There's more going on. I can explain everything to you once I get back." 

"You better. I'm not going to stay in this gang if I'm kept out of secrets." 

"You're not it's head doctor. Not yet." 

A scoff is heard. "And where are you?" 

"I'm at a safe house because I'm carrying a child." 

Ah, right. It seems to remind her. "Right... I just need help with something. At what point do I skip over people?" 

"What do you mean?"

"At what point am I supposed to skip over someone who's injured... like beyond what we have?"

I want to order her to help every single person in that warehouse. They deserve the help... but I wished I had someone to walk me through it when I was going through the exact same struggle.

"Once you see that their wound is worse than what our equipment can deal with. You give them pain medicine and anything they need to ease their way." 

"You got it, boss." 

Once she hangs up, I'm let in complete silence. Only the dim light of the sun pierces through the curtains. It's the only thing to keep me company. The solitude starts to get to me. My thoughts don't even switch to my child until I stand. 

* * *

 

The day passes quickly. I clean up what little of the apartment there is, get some laundry done. Hell, I even manage to make a nice little dinner for Oswald for when he gets here. Just as I light the last candle on the table, a horrible cramping pain echoes throughout my body. 

"Oh, God!" I double over and almost knock over the small table. 

It's a pain that's worse than many I've felt. It's not in the same category as the pain in my leg. This is different. All of the sudden, I feel the hot, sticky moisture of blood in my pants. 

Making a dash for the bathroom, I start the routine. None of it is real. It's just an anxiety attack. After everything that's happened over the past few days, I'm just freaking out. 

It's nothing. 

It's nothing. 

I switch on the shower, undress, and throw myself under the heat of the pulsing water. Even as I sit, I can still see the apparent blood on my pants. 

_Oh, the pain._

It's something that I can't handle... and that's how I know it's not real. If it was real, I'd be able to deal with the pain... wouldn't I? 

"AGH!" I cry out, just praying someone in the surrounding apartment thinks to call the hospital. "Someone help me!" 

I can't calm myself down! 

I can't do it!

A flood of steamy moisture pours from my eyes and joins in with the blood and tissue. 

There's nothing I can do to stop it. Just the idea of losing my child hurts my heart so much. I can't even imagine if it was real. 

"I need help!!!" 

"Oh my God! Sera!" 

It's not Oswald's voice... No... It's Butch's. He pushes through the door and stares at the horrific sight. 

All color is lost from my face when I see him. He isn't bloody. There are no wounds to his frame. He's in his normal health.  This isn't just a PTSD attack. This is real. 

"Butch!!" I cry out. Even forming words just seems like an impossible challenge. All I want to do is lay down my body and never rise. "Help me!"

He kneels down beside the tub, making sure to stare only at my ever-wandering eyes. For what seems like the longest time, he stays completely silent. 

"Help me!" My shoulders shake uncontrollably.

Tears streak down his face, too. He wipes his nose with his hand. "Sera, I'm so sorry... There's nothing I can do for you now... Please, let's just _go_." 

"Leave me alone, Butch! Go away!!" 

"Penguin wanted me to tell you he'd be late...Sera, this is  our one chance to get out of the city." He's willing to risk his life to see me get better. Butch knows that if I stay in Gotham, there's no possibility. 

I'll forever look at Oswald's face and know I've let him down. 

"No! I'm– I'm staying here!" 

I'm betraying him by staying. This is his one chance to escape. Once he goes back to Oswald, he'll be trapped under his spell. I'm disregarding the person I so swore to help. He was the reason I stayed for a long time... and now he's gone. 

He stands and nods. "I understand... I'll tell him you need him." 

Butch leaves without another word. My best friend turns his back on me in the very moment that I need him the most... but haven't I just done the same?

* * *

 

The water has been freezing for hours  by the time Oswald finally comes home. When he does, I'm still under the pulsing beat of the liquid. 

I can't tell if the pain has slowly started to recede, or if I've just gone numb to it.

"Sera?" He walks through the apartment. "Honey?" Oswald steps into the bathroom and sees the catastrophe. 

I can't even look at him, directly. From the corner of my eye, I see him fall onto his knees.

He sighs heavily and crumples on the floor when he sees the damage. It sends a chill down my whole body. He stays in that position for who knows how long. The only reason I know what's wrong is the wringing on his hands and the eyes that stare at the ceiling.

Without speaking, he crawls over to the tub and grabs onto my face. 

"None of this is your fault!" He nearly shouts. "Do you understand me? None of this is your fault!" 

But isn't it? Whether I was directly in control of it or not, every single bit of this is my fault. 

So I just nod in response. 

"Come on..." He shuts off the water and practically pulls me out of my grief-stricken haze.

Again, I bob my head. I dress in comfortable pajamas and practically crash onto the queen-sized bed. 

I'm not mad... Perhaps I should be... Maybe I should be mad at the universe or whoever runs the damn world. Maybe I should be happy. That's just one less advantage against Oswald and I... but as he plops onto the bed beside me, I can't help but feel numb. 

His warm figure wraps around mine in a comforting embrace. 

Tears don't stop their course down my face. 

Perhaps I'm not as numb as I'd like to be. 

"Sera... Speak to me..." His voice is shaky and cracked. 

I still can't look at him. "What is there to say?"

"I don't know," he agrees, pulling me to him. 

"I just... I am." 

Unlike me, he open to confessions. "I'm horrified. My mom's kidnapped and being tortured as we speak. My girlfriend's locked away from me and my unborn child has just–" 

He can't bring himself to say it. I don't blame him though... I can't either. 

"Yeah..." I respond. My voice only barely rises above a whisper. "Me too." 

His breathing is the only sound for hours. It's the only comfort to me. This is real... This isn't some sick hallucination or dream.

This is my living nightmare. 

* * *

 

At some point during the night, I decide to take a walk. Oswald's sound asleep, as is the rest of Gotham. 

Light footsteps patter against the carpet until I've finally reached the balcony. The door slide open and shut. Once again, I'm over-looking the city of Gotham. 

This time, however, I don't care to listen to it's song. There is no such song to a town of so much darkness and cruelty. Gotham is a city where the bright and beautiful things of the world go to fade. It doesn't make one bit of difference whether they're on the good side or the bad side. Everyone eventually gets placed in the dark shadows of the godforsaken town. And from there, they never dare to step out into the light ever again. 

I thought I could be a different case. I thought I could help people like Oswald and Butch step back out into the street lights, but no. Either everyone's too caught up in their own world to accept my help... or like, in this case, I get dragged into the darkness with them. 

What would my mother do? Would she forget about the whole ordeal? No, no. If she were still sane... she'd– she'd pray. 

In the midnight hour of my grief, that's all I can seem to do. 

"So um," I begin in a quiet whisper. "My mom knew the names of all of the saints and shit... but uh, I don't. So it's either hitting the ceiling or hitting in home."

I feel silly as I lean against the wooden railing– but perhaps I need to get this out.

"Obviously, I've never really talked to you before... I mean, I guess this is kinda new to both of us." 

I'm about ready to walk back inside. I'm such an idiot. What if Oswald hears me and assumes I'm going insane? But I stop once I get to the door. 

"But, uh, y'know? I guess I can work with new things. So, my name's Sera... But you knew that already.  My brother's name is Jim... He's kinda got it rough right now. I don't blame him. Having to deal with Oswald and myself would be hectic on anyone. Um, I'm dating a murderer... I conceived his child– out of wedlock, no less. But, you knew that too..." 

Saying out loud is actually comforting. It soothes my soul in such a way that I couldn't do if I kept it to myself. 

"And, um... I lost it today." A pause. "I think it was a her. I'm going to go with that. That's what I'd like for it to be, I guess. I wouldn't really care either way but– sorry. I'm rambling. I'm not going to keep anymore of your time, but I just have one request... When she gets to you, if she hasn't already, watch out for her." If I had anymore tears to cry, they'd be streaming down my face.  "I don't want her to be alone." 

I take to the stars one last time. The thought of letting myself tumble down the many feet of the apartment is tempting. It would probably be an instant death, I bet. But then I remember him. 

And I step inside. 

When I get back to bed, he's still sound asleep. Even in his sleep, tears continue to occasionally pour from his shut eyes. I crawl back in his embrace and let the sorrow overtake me. 

And it's okay. I should be feeling this way. 

"I love you," I whisper, resting my head against the rising and falling chest. 

In a groggy, half-asleep haze, he answers."I love you too."


	36. What Makes a Monster

The morning comes... eventually. Most of the night is spent listening to the soft breathing of Oswald. It's really the only thing that can comfort me. I try and read, write, and even turn on the TV. Nothing is able to soothe me. Nothing except the sound of his breathing; the one reminder that he's still alive. 

Every breath ushered from my lungs is painful. No, not like the pain from when I was trapped under the building. This is a different, aching pain. Not only that but I've seemed to adopt a physical aching in my chest. At first, I thought I might be having a heart-attack, but as the reality set in, I realized it was much worse. Not to mention the added pain from the fiasco yesterday. My internal organs ache from the shedding. 

"I don't want to leave you," Oswald places kisses upon my mess of hair. "I really don't." 

I don't want him to go, either. The very last thing I want is to be kept alone in this godforsaken apartment. I don't want to be alone. "But you need to. You're going to find your mother, today. I can feel it." 

He nods, sadly. "I hope so." 

"I'll see you tonight." 

"Yeah. Right. I'll be here as soon as I can." For a moment, he distances himself. He takes a few steps back and stares outside of the window. "I have to take myself away from all of this. I have to make it look like the only thing phazing me right now is my mother." 

I understand. For my safety, he has to make me non-existent. 

"Speaking of, I've got another safe house upstate. Perhaps after all this is over, you and I can just go there for a few days and get everything situated?" 

"Of course." 

"Goodbye, Sera." 

"Bye." 

He's already to the door by the time he pipes in one last time. "Call Harvey over here, or someone you trust, okay? I don't want you to be alone." 

"I'm not al– Okay. I will." 

* * *

 

"Harvey?" 

His mouth is full when he answers. "What's up, sister? How's the hiding out going? And how's little Harvey, huh?" 

Every function in my body feels like it shuts off when he says his last sentence. "Well... It's complicated. How quickly can you get here?" 

"I can be there in a few, depending on where you are." 

"Great. I'll text you the address."

From then on, it's only a matter of minutes before Detective Bullock shows up at my doorstep. Immediately, he can tell something's wrong. 

"Hey... what's wrong? Did Penguin drop you!? Do I need to go kick his ass?!" 

"No, no," I laugh softly. Ugh. After how much I've cried over the last few hours, I shouldn't have anymore tears left in my ducts. "I just– um– I lost–" 

"Don't say anymore." He wraps me up in a warm, soft hug. 

Harvey's a good man. He doesn't think he is, but he's one of the best I've ever known. I just wish I had the words to tell him right now. Instead, I just have the uncontrollable shaking of my shoulders to tell him how much I need him.

"I lost it, Harvey."

"I know, I know." He speaks slowly and softly. It's like I'm a child that just witnessed a horrifying death. "It's going to be okay, Sera. You can get through this."

He sits me on the couch and pulls up an old rocking chair to face me. It takes a while to pull myself together, but I'm finally able to do so.

"So Penguin actually let me come, huh?"

"Yeah," I sniffle. "He doesn't want me alone today."

"Oh, so he knows?" His hands fold across his lap.

"Yes. He witnessed a lot of it, yesterday."

A pained, sad scoff echoes from his lips. "I'm so sorry, Sera. No one should have to go through that."

I've heard that saying a million times before! What difference does it make, whether I deserve to go through the shit I've been through or not? It's happened! I've been in no control over it! Sure, no one should go through what I have, but it happens!

"I've heard that one before."

"Yeah, well, that means it's true. You don't deserve half of the things you've gone through. And look, you're still here."

In a moment of quiet, peaceful defeat, I feel relieved. This is just going to be my life. It's going to be the _'I didn't deserve that'_  and the  _'I'm sorry for your loss'_  kind of life. "So what does that mean for me? Am I damned?"

"No," he answers too quickly. Then, he backtracks. "Well, I don't know. At this point, I'm beginning to think we all are. You, me, your brother, Oswald–"

"What, you think he's cursed?" 

"Maybe," Harvey shrugs. "Gotham is a dark place. Y'know, people throw that term around all the time. It really is, though. It's like Gotham doesn't really exist in the world. All this city is, is a place of lost dreams and forgotten hopes." 

That was morbid... and frankly far deeper than I was expecting him to go. But isn't just a part of life in Gotham? We dive in deeper than we mean to, and come out beaten and bruised. 

Only moments later, there's a knock on the door. 

"I invited the Putz over," Harvey explains and answers the door. 

Jim steps in. His hands are full with bags of assorted Chinese food. 

"Jim, I– I–" 

Saying it to him is probably the hardest. Jim's so– so perfect. And I'm the complete opposite. In all of his flaws, he still has a sense of right and wrong. I feel like mine has just disappeared. Everything's a confused mixed color of grey. While Harvey digs through the food, he wraps me up in a hug, too. 

"I figured. You don't have to say anything, Sera." 

And I'm glad for that. When I'm with anyone else, I feel like it's my duty to speak;  I owe Harvey or Oswald an answer. Jim makes me feel safe in the solitude of silence. 

"Good... I don't want to." 

"Then let's eat." 

We spend a good amount of the evening just talking about simple things. Neither of them dare to bring up the loss of the child, for which I'm thankful. Mostly, they just converse about some cases and files. Apparently, Galavan's pretty close to winning over the mayor position. In fact, the party is going to be happening tomorrow night. 

"Do you want to go?" 

"To the induction thing?" 

"Yeah!" 

"Sure, I guess. I haven't voted for him, but I guess I'd like to meet the mayor." 

"If nothing else, it'll get you out of this shit-hole," Harvey agrees with my brother. "Hey, now that the circumstances have changed, do you still have to stay here?" 

I shrug. "He probably wants me to. And I have no more desire to go back and work right now. I guess I'm enjoying the quiet." It's lie, but it keeps them calm. 

Jim brings up another topic with his mouth full of food. "What did Penguin think about all of this?" 

"The miscarriage? Or the baby in general?" 

"All of it."

"Oh, well," I haven't really talked about it. Much less, I haven't thought about how this might be affecting Oswald. It tugs at my very core. Guilt parades through my chest. "He was shocked at first, but eventually he became very supportive of it all. That's kinda when he made me come out here." 

"And the other thing?" 

"Um, he– he–" it feels like a knot has just tied itself in my throat. "He um, his heart broke, basically." 

"I can't imagine someone like him having a heart," Harvey pipes in. "What'd he do?" 

"Bullock!" Jim nudges him in the side. "That's kind of personal!" 

"No, it's okay. He did what anyone else would do, I guess. He cried and stuff." 

That shuts them up. Neither of them quite know what to say about the man whose non-existent heart has been broken. I feel like if any part of my heart had left to be shattered, it would have just happened. 

"And then he made me promise him that I didn't think any of it was my fault."

Harvey's head lowers as he mulls over Oswald's reaction. 

Jim chews on the inside of his lip. "I'm so sorry." 

"There's nothing to be sorry about," I say. "It's over. It's done. We move on to the next tragedy." 

A groan comes from my brother's partner. "Don't say that, Sera. Don't say that. Not yet. It's the day after your miscarriage. You're supposed to be upset! You aren't supposed to be numb to it yet." 

"I guess I've just learned to get there faster than other people." 

* * *

 

"I'll call later." 

"Tell the Penguin he's alright." Harvey hugs me one last time. "For a homicidal maniac, after all." 

"Sure thing." Bullock leaves, and Jim nearly follows him out.

"Bye, Sera. Call me later, okay? Don't push me out of this one." 

"I'll expect the same treatment from you. You can't push me out, either." 

He nods, firmly. "Of course. Love you." 

"Love you too, Jim." 

The door shuts and I'm left alone in the bitter, cold apartment. The smell of cigars and alcohol begins to fade just as the sunlight starts to play hide-n-seek between the buildings. 

"Hello?" 

"Sera! Butch has done it! He's found my mother!" 

His sentence pushes me to a brick of bittersweet. And perhaps that's worse than being numb. 

"Where?" 

"Some warehouse. I'm gathering the troops now." 

Butch wanted to leave yesterday. If he was still under Oswald's control, he wouldn't have offered it. For my sake, I believe this is just his one last order to follow. 

"Please let me come with you." 

What's the point of even asking? I know exactly what he's about to say. 

"I can't let you do that. It could be dangerous.... Besides, I don't think you're in any place to kill someone if you had to." 

He's right though. The last thing I want to do is end another life. Haven't I already done that within the past few days? My death toll is past it's limit for the week. 

"Fine. Call me as soon as you find here." 

"I'll bring her to you. The three of us can get out for the weekend. It'll give me some time to make some moves and for my mother and yourself to recover." 

"Okay. I love you, Oswald." 

"I love you too. I'll see you soon." 

* * *

 

I wait by the phone for his call. I also turn on the news just in case the word gets out to the press. All the while, I see nothing. The news is as boring as ever, and my phone is as silent as a mouse. 

So I continue to wait. Sometimes I pace nervously. I think about the things I don't think to and write about them. When I finally get to the last page of my journal, my eyelids feel so heavy. 

But I don't want to sleep. I don't ever want to sleep for the rest of my life. All I want is for my soul to be at peace. I know that if I dare to shut my eyes for too long, my subconscious will bring up the horrors I've seen. 

* * *

 

My phone buzzes violently against the table. 

I pick it up on the first ring. "Hello?" 

All I can hear is muffled cries and pained screams. "If you see Butch, but a bullet in him!" He shouts. 

"What's going on?!" I grab my coat off the rack. "Where are you, Oswald?" 

"No! Don't come here! You cannot come here, Sera!"

"Well, tough!" I say, already out the door. I don't give him a chance to respond.

I hail a taxi down and get over to the mansion. What could've possibly happened? I try not to think about the negative, but that's all I can focus on. 

"Where is he?!" 

Joanne nearly pulls me to the ground from her hug. "Oh my God! I'm so glad you're back!! How's the little Joanne?!" 

I'm pulled out of my survival mindset. My glance must give her the answer she desires, for she backs off. 

"Oh... I'm– I'm sorry. We can talk about it later. Meanwhile, Penguin's gone crazy. I thought you should know." 

"Why? What happened?" 

"I can take you to him." She guides me into the meeting room where everyone is buzzing about– well, everyone except for Oswald. Through the meeting room, we go back into a closet-like area. Opening the door on the right, it leads down some stairs. It looks and feels like it would lead to a basement, but it actually leads into a string of sewer-like tunnels. 

"He's over there, boss." 

Oswald sits in a chair, watching the news. Theo Galavan is giving some grand speech about being elected as mayor. The big, thick man to his right just shakes his head. At first glance, I think it's Butch. At the second glance, I notice he's older than the other. I think I remember him from a meeting. 

"Hello, Sera." He greets me with  soft bob of his head. 

"Gabe, right?" 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"Nice to meet you." 

I walk over and take in the Penguin. He's slumped over in a chair, angrily watching the broadcast.

"He's going to pay for what he's done to my mother." 

"What'd he do?" I cross my arms and quirk a brow. 

It's like he didn't even notice my voice until I directly address him. His eyes glance up to me, then turn back to the TV. "He killed her." Grief is apparent upon his face. "Can you believe it? He actually killed her." 

He's been crying for who knows how long. No doubt he's also killed a few people in his grief-stricken haze. There's just been so much go on within the last forty-eight hours. The death of his mother has just sent him over the edge. 

"I'm so sorry." If all of his men weren't around, I would comfort him by wrapping him up in my arms, like he did to me last night. 

"Yeah, well condolences only go so far," he snaps. "Gabe! I have an idea of how Galavan will pay for this." 

Gabe walks over to Oswald's other side, waiting on his order.

"Let me help," I ask when he stands. "Please." 

"Why don't you go home, Sera? You're not needed here." 

"So you're sending me away?" 

He stares me down. In that moment, I see the same exact Oswald that I did a year ago. He's just my co-worker, and we both work for Falcone. Both of us are trying to get out of the situation we're in. "Yes, really. Didn't I just give you an order? Get out of here. Joanne took your place as the head doctor when you retreated." 

"You  _made_  me–" 

"You're relieved of duty or whatever the hell you want to call it." 

I can't believe he's doing this to me. This is his way of breaking up with me! He's making me leave him in the time that he needs me the most! It doesn't make sense! What the hell is he thinking?! 

My slap echoes throughout the tunnels. Everyone in the area goes completely silent. All eyes are turned on us. 

He grabs his cheek and groans. "Get out of here, before you regret it." 

When I respond, I feel as though I harness some inner strength. "Well," I answer too-sweetly. "If you insist." 

Joanne tries to stop me on the way out, but I'm already gone. 

I've  _been_  gone. 


	37. Not the Life it Seems

Once I step back into the fresh air of Gotham's dark knight, I think I have a mental breakdown. 

I think.

The taxi's already left, and I'm walking through the streets of the city alone. At every corner, I'm afraid someone's going to be there waiting on me. They'll attack me and beat me to death. Perhaps that would be better than what I'm going through. 

"Harvey!" I shout through the phone. "Damnit, Harvey! Where are you!?" 

Another dial. "Jim! Jim! I need you here, okay? Where the hell are you!?" Again, I get no answer. 

It's like suddenly everyone I've ever trusted has just died. I don't know where they are, but I want to join them. Perhaps whatever abyss they've flung themselves into is like an ignorant heaven. 

"So this is what it's come down to?" A voice scolds behind me when I'm paying for some cheap wine. 

I know this voice. "What are you doing here?" At this point, I don't care to even look him in the eye. He could've shot Galavan and then left! But what did he do? He let Galavan kill Oswald's mother. "By all means, I'm very tempted to kill you."

The heavy-set man rolls his eyes as I grab up the bottle. "What, did he break up with you?"

"Shut up, Butch. Go home, or whatever. I don't need you."

A scoff is heard from him as we step out into the cold, Gotham air. "We both know you won't kill me, so you should just answer my question."

"Yes! He did. Do you feel better about yourself, now?"

"Kinda. Look, I've got a car. Let me at least drive you home."

"I'm fine, Butch. I don't need help from someone who's just had my boyfriend's mom killed."

"Well," he does the math behind me. "Ex-boyfriend. But that's not the point."

"What is? I hope you get to it fast."

"He brainwashed me, Sera! I lost months of my life because of him– hell I even lost my hand to that psychopath."

"The brainwashing was all Zsasz and Falcone! You know that!"

"That still doesn't make up for my hand."

"I don't even want to hear about your stupid hand, Butch! I lost my child!! The day after going through it, he broke up with me. Because of what you did to him!"

"That's really gonna be how you play this, Sera?"

"Yeah!" I shout back at him. "It is. Because you know what, no matter what stupid body parts I lose, or who I'm brainwashed to, I will  _always_  bare the guilt of losing that child." Angry, sad tears streak down my face. "And I will always remember that he broke with me the day after because I couldn't do it. I couldn't be strong enough for him."

He shakes his head, regretting all of his words. "I'm sorry, Sera."

No less angry, I get into his car.

On the way back to my house, he doesn't say anything (for which I'm glad). I feel as if he says anything, I'll hit the bottle of wine over his head.

"Do you want me to come in?"

I answer him, bitterly. "No."

***

My house looks and feels like a fortress of safety. I haven't been back in so long, that it seems like I'm stepping back into the comforts of my childhood once again. Even though it should be a sweet, nostalgic time, I'm paraded by guilt and disgust.

The next night and day consists of awakeness and sleep. None of it can be considered rest, though. Even in my dreamworld, my thoughts go to him. Tears never stop staining my once-bright cheeks. I feel as though the other half of my soul has simply vanished. It not longer exists within my being. I'm lost within the gray.

"Hey, Sera," Jim sighs through the phone.

I told him and Harvey about the break up the night before. "Yeah?"

"Do you still wanna come to the induction tonight? It'll be dangerous..."

"As tempting as that is, I'm going to have to say no."

"What?" He scoffs through the phone. "Why not?"

"I'm in no shape to get ready, and–"

A knock comes at the door.

"Hang on. Let me call you right back. Hello?"

Jim, Harvey and Lee stand at the door.

"Sorry. I'm already here."

"We thought it best of you get out of the house," Lee nods, following Jim and I inside. "So, are you ready?"

My face is puffy and swollen from all the crying I've done. "Sure, I guess."

I don't want to go to the stupid event. Can't they just leave me be for one day? In fact, going out is the very last thing I want to do. I can't handle it. I practically see him out of the corner of my eye. He's still around. 

"Make-up time!"

Lee practically carries me up to my room and gets me ready for the induction. She hands me a floor-length, ivory colored dress. Apparently, the event in more formal than I was initially thinking.

The next hour or so is spent mindlessly listening to Lee's blabber about work and Jim as she does my cosmetics. Frankly, it goes in one ear and out the other. I just don't have the heart to listen.

"Alright! She's ready and good to go."

Jim and Harvey chatter amongst themselves about the strike team setting up bases and tactics. They exchange strategies about how to keep Galavan safe.

They expect the Penguin to attack. After the stunt Theo's pulled, I'm completely okay with him killing the mayor. Not only is Penguin a murderer with a grudge against Galavan, but they've also blamed him for the damage that Galavan ultimately caused.

"Ready?"

My smile is thin and strained. It's there, but only because they're forcing it to be. "As I'll ever be."

Harvey rolls his eyes and places his arm around me. "Come on, sister. There's a good chance he'll be there. You know, I heard that the best way to get revenge on a guy is to dress up all fancy."

"Yeah!" Lee agrees quickly. "I actually have to run by the morgue! I'll meet you guys there, okay?" 

"Sure," Jim plants a soft kiss of her lips. 

Harvey pretends to gag as I turn my gaze away. It's still a little too real for my liking. 

As we part with Lee, I can't help but wonder if she feels the same, tearing feeling that I did whenever I had to leave the mansion. 

***

"Welcome the new mayor of Gotham: Mr. Theo Galavan!" An applause thunders throughout the room, lead by Harvey Dent. 

Balloons fall from the ceiling as Mr. Mayor steps out onto the stage and greets the audience. 

As I sip on a glass of champagne, I notice James, Harvey and a few other cops walking around and speaking in hushed tones. 

"Is everything okay?" I finally ask Harvey.

He nods. "Of course. We're just being cautious about all this, Sera. Penguin's unpredictable at this state– if what Butch said was true–" 

"What did Butch say?!"

He doesn't get the time to answer me. Right before he speaks, the windows behind the stage break and crack. People that look exactly like Penguin burst through them. 

"Oh my God. Get everybody out of here!" 

The strike force goes to work. They grab people and file them down the stairs and through hallways. It's a massive sea of chaos.

"Sera!" Jim snaps. "Which one is Penguin?" 

I'm too shocked to say anything for a moment. They all look almost identical to Oswald. They don his suit, his signature gun; they even have his wobble down. 

"Sera! Pull yourself together! Which one is Cobblepot!?" 

Gunfire and chaos ensues. Jim pulls me behind a pillar and shoots down a few of the zombie-like people. 

"He's– He won't be coming with those people. Where is Galavan? He'll– He'll be after Galavan!" 

It clicks in Jim's head. "Harvey! You're with me!" My brother hands me a spare gun. "Do you know how to use this?" 

It's a silverish handgun that fits well within my palm. "Yeah. I'm pretty smart. I can figure it out." 

"Good. Then get out of here!" He snaps and runs back into the flames of battle. 

There's so many of him. I don't know how I'm going to be able to get out of here without shooting one. I don't even know if I can at this point! Everywhere I turn, he is literally standing there! He has a gun in his hands, shooting at everyone in sight! 

_Bang! Bang!_

The gun fires at a man I know is not Oswald. The stairs are so close! But just as I get to them, I trip from underneath my dress. I hit the ground with a loud thud. The wind is knocked from my lungs. It feels like I'm trapped under a massive about of rubble once again. 

A Penguin hovers over me. His gun is aimed right at my head. 

Don't I know him? I've met him in the gang! That doesn't stop him from putting the barrell to my head. So I shoot him in the chest. 

The gunshot echoes through my ears. I've never killed anyone before. 

Not until now. 

He practically falls on top of me. Blood pours onto my dress. Don't go into another panic attack, Sera! Don't do it!

I snatch his shotgun and sling it over my shoulder, just like Oswald does. I don't know how much ammo either gun has, but I don't want to be caught with a shortage. 

The stairs have all but emptied. Thankfully. Maybe no one else has to die because of Galavan. I run through the lower floor, almost nearing the exit. So far, no one's been in the lower area. It's practically clear. 

_Bang!_

One last shot echoes through the quieter ground floor. 

But it's not mine. 

A searing pain burns through my stomach. 

"AGH!!" 

There's a Penguin hiding the shadows of the staircase. 

But I don't stop running. I just run in a different direction. If I try and get to the door, I know I won't make it. The Penguin will put another bullet in me, and it's already so much of a struggle to breathe. The window is my closest option. 

The crash startles me. I don't expect it to me so loud, nor hurt so much. 

The lower floor is still propped up on a hill and a large amount of stairs lead up to it's door, so I fall quite a ways. Luckily, I jump on an empty side. I won't hit anyone. 

Well.  _Almost_  anyone. 

The person I hit and I go tumbling down the hill. It's a Penguin! Even while we fall, I can see his suit and wig. 

As soon as we land onto the road, I pick up the shotgun and aim. Somewhere along the way, I must've dropped the handgun. 

If I can't shoot him, the road leads to another hill. I can jump down from the road and tumble into safety. As long as I stay in a close proximity of the church, I'll keep getting shot at. 

But this isn't just any Penguin. This is him. It's Oswald Cobblepot. He too, aims his gun at me. But as soon as he recognizes it's me, he lowers his weapon. 

"What are you doing here, Sera?!" His voice is excited and crazed, like he's both frustrated that I came, and like he's about to kill his arch enemy. "You shouldn't be here!"

I groan, pressing onto the wound. Perhaps he won't see it, this way. He has more important things to be worrying about. "Jim invited me! You aren't exactly my keeper, anymore." 

His crystal eyes glance around the road, just to make sure no one's going to intrude his little interaction with me. As if getting the okay from the distant screaming, he grabs onto my arm. "You have to leave. Now, Sera!" 

His grip pulls my arm away from the wound. It's once again open to the air. Pain shoots through my stomach. Every fiber within my being aches, desperately. I don't think I can stand much longer. 

"Don't you think– that's what I'm trying to do?" My answer comes through heaves of breathing and groaning. 

"What happened to you?" 

"What do you think? You just started a war, Oswald!" 

His voice softens as he tries to prop me up on his side. It sounds like he's heartbroken and rejoicing at the same time. "One of us is going to die tonight, Sera."

"What?" 

"Either Theo Galavan or I am going to die tonight... And you know what, I've accepted it. I've said my goodbyes. I'm okay with it." 

"Well, I'm not, so can we stop this idiotic plan and get some help!? You haven't said your goodbyes to me!" I demand, trying to pull him off the edge. "You just told me to go away!" 

"That was the best I could do," he comments. For a while, I wonder why he's not trying to get me help. But then, I realize it's because these could very well be his last words spoken on this Earth... And he wants to spend them upon me. "I couldn't tell you what I was going to do. You would never let me." 

"You're damn right!" I snap. "Now let's stop this. There has to be a better way to catch Galavan." 

"No! This is about blood, Sera. He killed my mother. Isn't it only fair that I do the same to him? Men like him deserve to die." 

"Yeah..." I say. I don't have the energy to argue with him anymore. I just can't. "Yeah they do." 

"Sera, I–"

Tears of pain (both emotional and physical) drip down from my eyes. I just can't hold it in, anymore. I feel like over the past few days, my emotions have run dry. But he just brings them back to life. 

"I need to get help!" I push myself away from him. "Let me get help. Go get Galavan." 

He nods, in understanding. Crystal green eyes run over my form once last time. 

_Bang!_

From the broken window, the shot echoes out. 

Pain shoots through my shoulder. 

"AGH!"

Oswald turns and gasps. His eyes take to the shooter. It's one of his Penguins. "Leave her alone!" He cries out. "Leave her alone!" 

I run over to the edge of the road. People are walking through the lower area to get help. All I'll do is land on soft, calm grass. And I'll roll. I'll tumble down the hill for people to find me. Perhaps I'll be dead... and perhaps I won't. There's a good possibility for either.

The Penguin that shot me didn't seem to hear Oswald's command. His gun cocks into position once again. 

Oswald's eyes lock onto me. 

"Sera..." his voice is warning. But it spreads it's wings out to worried. "Sera!!" 

My undamaged hand stretches out to him. Perhaps our skin can touch one last time. As he runs to me, I physically can't stand on my own, anymore.

He has my blessing now. He can go and kill Galavan without feeling any sort of grief for me. I've already made myself okay with it. 

And okay with it, I will stay. 

My sight turns from Oswald to the sky as my body fails me. What gorgeous stars Gotham is producing tonight? The night is such a beautiful cloak, just like how it's always been. 

Once more, I take a look at him. He's just as I remember seeing him for the first time. He blends in with the night. The two of them belong together; the darkness, and the Penguin. They're made for each other. This time, instead of being relaxed and light-hearted, he's worried. His crystal eyes are wide and afraid. His arms reach out to catch me, but I'm already too far gone. 

He has my blessing. Go and take what blood is owed. 

As my back hits the grass, I can't help but feel... sad.  Sorrow,  _true_  sorrow plagues my soul. 

But that's okay. There are worse things than sorrow, just as there are worse things than death. 

So I'll take sorrow, any day. I'll take it and run with it like a childhood friend. 


	38. Fractured Souls and Sacred Places

**O. Cobblepot:**

I've never really known if I had a soul– much less, care if it existed. The things that I've done, I'm not remorseful for. Whatever (if any) soul I possibly have is corrupt and black. There can't be any hope for it, especially after the last few days. My child and then my mother– but as she falls, I feel like whatever soul I have left is ripped from my chest. 

The air is sucked out of my lungs as her head hits against the ground. The cracking sound it makes sends my stomach in turns. I've never been queasy, but just knowing that it's her almost sends me over the edge.

My insides scream, but all I can do is stare in horror as her body rolls down the large hill. I feel like I've never been so close to Sera, but I've also never been so far away. She's falling down to her death, and all I can do is stare.

"You!" I shout at a man already at the bottom. "Get her!" 

It's the DA. Harvey Dent also turns his horrified gaze to the woman. He picks her up bridal style. His dark eyes fall over her frame. I know– I  _know_  he's looking for signs of life, but it makes me horribly, murderously jealous. No one gets to look at her that closely except for me. "I'll get her to a hospital!"

I think about threatening him. Maybe that will tell him how urgent I need her to be saved... if it's even possible. By the way she falls limp in his arms makes my heart sink. Perhaps there is no way for her to be saved. Instead, all I can say is a meek "thank you".

It's hard for me to walk away from the scene, but as I turn, the Penguin that shot her has turned the gun on himself. He's weeping, like he's made the worst mistake of his life. As far as I'm concerned, he has. 

_Bang!_

I let him take his own life. It saves me the trouble of having to do it myself. 

"Get him out of here!" Jim Gordon's escorting the snake out to a car. 

But just before he can get to the cop, a bullet enters his chest. 

His gun points on me, as mine on him. 

"Hello, Jim. Please step aside." 

"You know I can't do that." 

"You would if you knew what kind of man you were protecting." 

From behind him the snake whispers into his ear. "Shoot him, detective."

The detective speaks quietly and slow, like he's trying to calm my excited manner. It's too late for that. I've already accepted my death! "Oswald, listen to me. You have to put the gun down!"

"He killed my mother, Jim." Just saying the sentence sends me over the edge. Grief plagues at my being.

"I know."

Galavan looks shocked. I think on it smugly. Sera must've told him. Even in death, she's still on my side.

"Detective Gordon, I am ordering you to put that man down now!"

"He had her murdered in front of me," I dare to take a few steps forward. "I held her. Watched her die. Do you know what that's like? It changes a person." 

A gun cocks from behind me. "Sorry about your mother, Penguin." It's Bullock. "But I'm gonna need you to put the gun down on the ground, slowly." 

A deep breath is taken into my lungs. "One of us is going to die tonight. I've made my peace with that. I suggest the new mayor does as well." 

"Don't make us shoot you–" 

"Shoot me and you have no idea what his endgame is, Jim! And you should, because it concerns someone you know. Someone you care about." 

Again, the snake dares to speak. "Shoot hi–" 

The sound of a sniper fills the air. And then the pain kicks in. It burns through my chest and pushes me to the ground. It wipes out whatever air filled my lungs. 

"Duck!" The detectives turn and shoot at the sniper on the roof. 

I know exactly who it is. She will be paying the same price as Galavan! Meanwhile, I make my escape. The car is started and ready for me to take. I sneak in, start the car and drive away. The pain in my body is too much for me to take. I have to get out of here.

Gunshots follow behind me. The strike upon the car. But never me. At this point, I'm not sure if it's on purpose, or that their aim is off.

***

The woods provide a safe haven. I remember a little trailer that I brought back to Gotham. That can provide me refuge until I have a plan. 

All I know is that I'm going to get out of the city, if I make it through the night. The only two people I've ever loved are dead and at my hand, well, mainly Theo Galavan's. He's the one to blame for the extraction of my hardened soul. I thought I hated Fish Mooney. No, this something entirely different. He killed them in cold blood. This town has nothing for me, anymore.

Pain shoots through my back and onto my limbs. Even just walking is a struggle. Damn this stupid leg! If only I could move faster, I could get to the end of the road. I don't want to die out in the vast nothingness of the forest. 

I want to be alone for this. Alone like my mother was, and alone like I left Sera a day ago. Guilt fuels my drive to get to my coffin. 

Every move is painful and piercing. 

All of the sudden, I see what looks like a picnic blanket... with no one around. Well, no one alive anyways. There's a briefcase and a man lying in a small ditch. It's not exactly my type of M.O, but who can judge? 

A sandwich sits upon a plate. This is the sustenance I need to get to the trailer.

Aching and groaning, I pick it up and keep walking. Nothing can stop me now. Not a shot to the back and not a crazed murderer running around in the woods. 

After what feels like miles and miles of walking, it comes into view. The trailer is covered in vines and greenery, but it's still functional. 

Inside, the trailer still has it's familiar scent of death. On the ceiling as a map connecting everything I knew about Gotham. 

A soft chuckle escapes my lungs as I collapse in nearly the exact same place. I know so much more about the cruelty of the city. Heavy, unshaky breaths enter and exit from my lungs as I gaze up at it once again. I try to make my thoughts zoom in on nothing, but my grief keeps them from doing so. 

Sera was right. She's always been right. Gotham is a dark and horrible place. My time in the town has all but passed. It's time for me to move on. 

Perhaps I'll be able to see her soon. Well, that, or I'll join Falcone and Miss Mooney in the flames of hell. Either one of them is better than what I'm having to possibly live through. 

Turning my eyes from the map to the blank space on the wall, my thoughts drift to Sera and my mother until I fall asleep. 

And I pray, to whatever creator exists, that I don't have to wake up from it. 

***

**S. Gordon:**

I never quite thought that death was a beautiful thing. Throughout all of my life, I just assumed people romanticized the most gruesome painful experience. Perhaps they did it for the children, or the early lovers that died away too young. I never really cared enough to look into it.

My head crashes against the ground and I tumble down the hill. Rocks and bumps building up my momentum and speed. My dress tears and rips against the sticks and rocks. One last bump against my head, and my world turns to black.

For a long time, all I see is nothing. I'm just strolling around in the darkness. Finally, I stumble upon a small, dim ray of light. My hands wrap around it. It's actually tangible! I can move it and shape it into my own image, like clay. I don't know what comes upon me, but I throw it up into the air, and suddenly the room is full of the same, dim light. Except, I'm not in the dark abyss anymore.

I'm in a grand hall. Right in front of me is a large, wooden table. Upon it massive amounts of the most wonderful food anyone could desire. Sitting around the table is different people I don't recognize. I try to make sense of their faces, but I can't– not until I get to two people I know very clearly.

My mother and father sit beside each other. They don't look so old and rugged anymore. Their bodies are healthy and full of life. As soon as I walk behind them, my father smiles at me.

His smile is the same, exact handsome smile I always remember him having. I'm so overwhelmed with emotion that I feel hot steamy moisture rise to my eyes, but it doesn't drip.

It can't.

I even blink a few times for it to comes out, but it doesn't. The moisture stays in my eyes.

"Mom..." I go to hug her from behind. But she turns. In her arms is a tiny bundle. "Is that...?"

Mother nods and tells me to sit beside her. As soon as I do, the baby is placed in my arms. It's her. I know it's her. It has to be.

She has Oswald's bright blue eyes, and my brunette hair– well, perhaps. As she grows, it may change shape and color. But I know it's her.

Just as I get used to holding her in my arms, my father takes her away and cradles her.

I'm tempted not to give her up, but he assures there is plenty of time for me to hold her. From the corner of my eye, I see my father hand her over to some woman–

That's not just any woman. 

"Let me see my grandchild," she takes my baby in her arms and holds her tightly. "I always told him he would make beautiful children!" 

My dad laughs softly and strokes my child's hair.

It's her. I know it is.

Mother turns her full attention on me. "Tell me what's going on, dear. Even now, I know you're unwell."

"It's just–" The same moisture fills my eyes. "I'm so tired, mom. I feel like I've been fighting and fighting to no avail... and I'm ready to be done with it all."

She runs her hand down my face. "Your fight's not over yet, my dear. You have more to fight for than just yourself, my girl. Go and take the world by storm." 

***

"Is she bad enough to need to go to Strange?" 

"No. Let the hospital take care of her." 

"But she looks pretty close to death, sir."

"I said no! We are going to leave her here. She has too many people on her trail. Let's move." 

Whatever the conversation ends with, I only hear bits and pieces. I drift in and out of heavy sleep and light sleep. 

For all I know, I'm still locked away in the sacred place. 

***

"How is she?" 

"She's in stable condition, but it'll be a while before she can finally be able to function again. Sera also might have some permanent brain damage. We won't know any of that until she wakes up." 

"Which will be when?"

"Now, apparently. Sera. Can you hear me?" 

A warmth is pressed on my shoulder– my uninjured shoulder. My eyes blink awake and I'm back in the real world. 

The first thing I register is where I am. I'm in the Gotham City Hospital. Rachel's standing at my side and Jim is on the other side. I'm back in Gotham. I'm no longer in the heaven that was portrayed to me.

The second thing I register is the pain. One glance at Jim, and I know it's real. I'm not just dreaming it up. The aching, stinging, burning sensation fills my core. Tears pour like rain down my face as my shoulder shake. 

Rachel beeps the medicine button for me. "If you're in pain, press the button, Sera. I'll go get the doctor." 

The nurse leaves, and only a short few minutes after, the doctor enters. "Hello. Sera. Can you speak with me?" 

I try to answer him, but all that comes out is a croak.

"That's okay." He nods. "Your throat was severely damaged during the fall. You've been in a coma state for a week or two. Might I ask what actually happened?" 

"Yeah!" Jim agrees, sitting back in the uncomfortable hospital chair. "Tell us what happened." 

I have to actually think about it. That night was very clearly the worst night of my life. Oswald had broken up with me. I lost a baby the day before. 

"Better yet, let's just start with your name. Can you write it down?" He hands me a notepad and paper. 

Hurriedly, I scribble down my name and hand it back to him. 

"Good. Good. Now, do you know where you are?" 

I write down the location. 

"Also good. Now, let's try the events of the shooting. What happened?" 

I have to think for a minute before jotting down the answer. The tears take up room in my eyes. Even as I try to write, my vision is clouded by the moisture. 

I jot down the necessary things, but leave out small little aspects about my encounter with Oswald and the man that I murdered. 

He doesn't need to know any of that. In fact, no one needs to know any of that. That will die with the sacred place. 

Jim sighs as the doctor reads the note aloud. "So you just decided to roll down a hill to get away from the shooter?" 

I nod. 

"I guess that's better than getting shot, again. There's a lot we need to talk about, Sera." His bright blue eyes shift to the doctor then back at me. "When the doc isn't around." 

"Right, well, I'm just going to give you a little run-down on how the next few weeks are going to go. And then I'll be out of your hair." 

Jim and I urge him to just get on with it. 

"You've sustained head and neck injuries. You'll stay in a brace for the next week or so. You've also broken your left arm, which just happens to be the shoulder that was shot. You'll be in a sling for quite a while. You lost a kidney due to the bullet puncture. Let's see, you also lost a massive amount of blood. We had to resuscitate you in the ambulance." 

I died.... I actually died. 

Instead of sobbing, I'm just indifferent to it. I don't even know what to do with myself anymore.

"I know this is a lot to take in. We'll have a trauma counselor visit you shortly. Meanwhile, you should get some rest. We plan to release you in a few days. If you have any questions, just let me know." 

James thanks the doctor when he exits the room. As soon as the door shuts, he's at my bedside. 

"So you didn't see Penguin at all?" 

I shake my head. 

"I don't believe you." 

I shrug my shoulders. He can believe me, or not. I'm just don't care now. 

Nothing can penetrate the emotional wall that I've put up. Not after seeing my dead family. That's all that I can think about, anymore. As Jim bombards me with questions and demands, I'm simply lost within the distant dream of a Euphoria where my daughter resides. 

 _'Have you seen him?'_  I finally ask through the piece of paper.

"Who, Galavan?" 

_'No. Oswald.'_

He shakes his blonde head. "I haven't Sera. He was shot. Sniped. It hit his chest. The last I saw him, he was driving away. The safest bet is to assume he didn't make it. No one could get to help with a wound like that. And he hasn't resurfaced, so..." 

I can't believe it. He was actually telling the truth. One of them would die, and it just happened to be him. 

Perhaps, if I wasn't so already dead, I would be crying. 

But instead, I just turn my gaze out the window. 

Why couldn't I have stayed?


	39. The Nightmare Princess

**S. Gordon:**

As soon as I close my eyes, I'm back on the road outside of the church.

"Go, Sera. You have to go."

"Why?" There's no bullet wound to my stomach, yet!

"Because!" Oswald pleads. "Because you still have the baby! You have to move!"

Suddenly, it dawns. The baby hasn't been lost yet. My life is not my own anymore! So I do as he says. I run as hard and as fast as I can away from him.

Just like every other progression of the dream, the gunshot echoes throughout the soundless night.

It startles me awake... Just like always.

But that isn't the end of it. As soon as I figure out that everything is okay, and that I'm back and safe in the hospital, I lay my head back down. My eyes shut again.

This time I'm in the heaven I pictured. Except, nobody's there– well, nobody alive, anyways. The feasting table is covered in blood and entrails of the people I knew.

As I observe in horror, I notice my father, mother and Gertrud spread out on the floor near the table. My father's body is mangled and torn, like from the car accident. Mom's body is bruised and yellow, like I remember her. Gertrud has a single stab wound to her back. Blood spreads throughout her dress.

But that's not the worst of it. No. In Gertrud's arms is a bundle. When I try to pick up my child, the swaddle falls limp in my arms. Blood and tissue fall out of my arms and onto the floor below.

And then their blood fills up the room faster than I can get out of it.

And I drown.

But by then, the sun has risen over the clouds.

The storm has died away for now.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"I dunno." I shrug. Over the past few days, I've gained my voice back... but it's still scratchy and sounds like I've been smoking for a century.

Mary takes my vitals and sets the equipment back in it's proper place. "You never know anything anymore, do you?"

My eyes roll and take to the window. "What's it to you?"

The thicker woman jots down a few things on her clipboard. "Nothing, really. I just remember who you were."

Judgmental hues take back to her frame. "You were my nurse for one night. You know nothing about me."

"Perhaps not," she sets the board on the rack of equipment louder than my ears would like. "The trauma counselor will be in at around ten-ish. Try and pull your thoughts together before he gets here, honey."

"Why should I do that?"

"He has a way of bringing out emotions of the numb."

"What do you mean?"

"There hasn't been one person who he's seen that hasn't used up a box of tissues afterwards."

My glare makes Mary back up her statement.

"I'm serious. He gets the patients cryin', the doctors cryin'. Everybody cries."

"That sounds like a bad romance movie."

"Girl, he's going to make you be missing your kindergarten boyfriend when he's done with you." She rolls out the equipment and shuts the door behind her.

I scoff at her exaggeration. Yeah, right. I don't feel like I have anything left for this world. Unless he can bring back the dead, he won't be able to move anything within me.

***

"Is there anything I can get you?" Jim asks at one point of our conversation.

I think, not bothering to turn my back from the window. They're actually allowing me to get up and move around. It's surprising, actually. If they really knew what was going on in my mind, they'd strap me down and send me straight to Arkham.

"I want my stuff. From the safe house."

"Why?"

"Why not?" I snap, turning back to him. "I want my things from the apartment. They're the last things I have from him."

"Fine. I need a key." Jim's been... weird ever since the accident. He's been terse and quick with me. I'm not sure, but fi I had to guess, I would say that every single glance he takes towards me reminds him of how he almost failed.

Jim Gordon was almost the last of us remaining.

And I think he feels extremely guilty for it. Which, he doesn't need to. He saved so many lives that night. What's the cost of one?

"I don't– I don't know where it is. You're going to have to break in or something. At this point, I don't care."

"Alright. Lee and I will bring it over in a few hours."

"Thanks."

As soon as his frame disappears from sight, a young man strides into the room.

"Hello, Miss Gordon." The man wears a suit and tie. He has got to be one of the financial people in the hospital.

"I'm sorry. I still haven't figured out the payment plan. Can we discuss it later?"

He sits in the chair where my brother just was. His dark brows furrow together. "I'm afraid you misunderstand me. I'm Doctor Darren. Darren Warrick. I'm going to be your counselor."

I was expecting some older gentlemen. Perhaps some guy with loads of wisdom. Maybe a war hero. Perhaps he'd be a scholar. But no. I get a baby-faced virgin.

"But– you're like twelve."

Both us sit in a moment of shock at what we've said.

"I'm twenty-seven, which if I checked your records correctly, makes me older than you. And if this is going to–"

Harvey bursts through the door. "Sera, do you have a second?"

Dr. Warrick turns his chocolate gaze towards the older cop. "Sorry, we're in the middle of a–"

"It's about Penguin."

A spark of emotion flares up in my heart. "Of course." I'm visibly shaken. "You know I have nothing but time, especially about... that."

Darren quickly catches on and tries to reel me in, but Harvey's already pushing him out the door.

"Miss Gordon!" He protests.

"You know what?" I stand, nodding. "I'll make you a deal, Dr. Warrick."

He listens, intently.

"We can talk, once you've graduated high school."

Bullock bellows in laughter and pushes the doctor out the door. Warrick storms away in frustration.

"You should really let him do his job, y'know."

"And I will," a smirk tugs on my lip. "Just when you're not around."

"Works for me." He follows me to the window. "I think we're close to finding him, Sera."

"You think?" My eyes take to the sky. It's unnaturally blue today. Gotham doesn't deserve such a beautiful sky. It deserves the gray indifferent clouds. "Where?"

"We found the car parked along the side of the road near some woods. We think he may have escaped into there."

"Why? Why would he want to go into the woods? There's no resource for him out there."

He shrugs. "Maybe he just wanted peace for when he died or somethin'."

"I doubt it," my brows knit together. "There had to have been something out there.... Have you found his mother's body?"

He shakes his head as I look up to him. He's getting old. That thought forces me to look away. His beard is growing hair by the day, as are his eyes. It tugs on a piece of my heart that isn't all there anymore. "Nah. Frankly, we're not sure where to even look."

"Search the warehouses. That's where Butch told him she was."

"Speaking of, Gilzean is nowhere to be found."

"Good. I hope he's curled up in some dank hole and died."

Harvey chuckles. "That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"Not really," I switch on the TV. "Anything on Galavan?"

"Jim's still digging, even though he's already locked up. Barnes is taking him off the case, I think."

"He's not going to like that."

"Yeah, well, he's going to have to get over it," his comments. "I'm all for him going after more Galavan dirt, but it's like taking over his life."

I shrug– wincing, once again. "You know how he gets with that kind of stuff. When people go after the people he loves, he's not going to stop unless he knows they're going to be put away for good."

Harvey rolls it off his back. "I know. I'm just a little worried about him. Anyways, I better get going. There's a Quesadilla on your table-y thing for you. I can't even imagine how the hospital food must be treating you."

The aroma of the Mexican food floods my nose for the first time I inhale it deeply and sigh. "Oh, Harvey. You do the most romantic things for me!" I laugh, popping open the leftover box. Eight little triangles of meat and cheese just wait to be consumed.

And the best part about it all, is that it's not hospital food.

The detective follows my laugh with his own, hearty one. "Well, eat up. I gotta get back to the precinct, but I'll catch you later. You better prepare yourself for that counselor."

"Whatever," I scoff with a mouthful of food.

***

**O. Cobblepot:**

I often forget what happened after Ed found me. After he patched up the wound, the days passed in hazes in between sleep and awake.

It's a little unclear– which still worries me a little bit.

Anyways, he's an okay guy. A bit weird for my taste, but he's offered me his home until I find and get a game plan together. I'm going to get the hell out of dodge. Whether Sera is alive or not, I'm going to leave Gotham. My time in the city is over.

Every time my thoughts go to her, I can't help but get sick to my stomach. The way she fell limp in Dent's arms- there's just no way. The necklace I gave her forever ago still rests in my pocket. It's going to stay there. It's my reminder of how I failed her.

After everything I've gone through, I don't know if I even care about the gang anymore. Staring at my mother's belongings makes it all seem so small, now.

Ed claims that a man who loves nothing is a man without weakness. I agree with him, mostly. But no matter what, my weakness will always be the things I've lost.

"Did you hear?" Ed pipes as he walks in from work one day.

A brow quirks. "Obviously not, Ed," I murmur, sipping on a mug of coffee. "I stay in here all day." It's true. I rarely leave the house. I'm still trying to figure out how to cope with everything. That, and I'm trying to get my plan together.

"Sera Gordon is still alive. Harvey and Jim were talking about her today!"

Relief comes over me like a sweet caress. "Did they? How is she? Tell me, Ed!"

"I asked them about her, because y'know- I've like, saved her life before-"

"Wait what?" That catches my attention. "When?"

"I was the one that found her buried under the building forever ago."

It was him. He's the man who saved her life. And I'm the one who's almost destroyed it... More than once. "I never got thank you for that."

He shrugs. "It's alright. You should've seen how awful she looked." The intern shutters, but grins at the same time. "It was so disgusting but intriguing. She was covered in dust and had a huge piece of metal-"

"Okay, thanks. I don't want to know the details. Just tell me how she is."

"Fine," he pushes up his glasses and plays a small melody on his piano. "Jim's going by the safe house to get her things. Apparently, she demanded it."

A soft laugh drips from my lips. Of course she did. She wouldn't let Jim deny her of anything she wanted.

"Harvey said that she ran out her counselor. Said that she'd talk to him once he graduated high school." At that, we both smirk. "And not too much after that. She's still in a lot of pain. Both physical and emotional. She thinks you're dead, by the way."

"Does she?"

"Yeah," he nods, losing himself in the melody. "Yeah, she does."

Maybe it's for the best. This way, she doesn't have to worry about me. She won't have to bear any guilt. My death feels like some sort of payment to her. All of the things she doesn't believe in will be made right, again. She can go live a normal life, now.

She can be a nurse, and save Gotham, like she always dreamed. Maybe she'll meet a nice man one day and settle down. Yeah, that's the life I have pictured for her. She doesn't need me.

She doesn't need me to stomp in and put her in danger again.

"Okay," I say, trying to come across as indifferent. But of course, Ed catches on.

"Should I tell her that you're alive? Remember what we talked abou-"

"Yes, yes, I remember. No. I don't want you to tell her."

"If you decide to get back to business, she's going to figure out either way. Either from you or Jim."

I shrug, still trying to pass myself off. "I don't need you to tell her. She's better off without me."

Ed ceases his playing. "That may be so, but are you better off without her?"

My eyes narrow at the nerd. And I don't say anything for quite some time. By the time I answer, my sandwich is just about made. "Nygma," I begin, placing the spicy mustard in the fridge. "Nobody's better off without Sera Gordon."

"That's how I feel about Miss Kringle."

"Except," I take a bite out of my food. "I didn't murder my own girlfriend."

"Technically, she's not your girlfriend anymore. And I told you that was an accident."

I shrug.

"And anyways, haven't you already almost killed her a few times?"

"Not with my bare hands! And not intentionally. God, no. I would never- never hurt Sera."

Nygma laughs softly, making his own dinner. "I wonder if your child would've gotten your murderous side, or Sera's crusader side. Do you?"

"How do you know about that?" My mood turns from pleasant to deadly in two seconds. That topic is still too hard for me to even bring up in my own thoughts.

"Jim, Harvey and Barnes knew about it."

"Why did the captain know?"

"Because she called Jim and Barnes interrupted the phone call. Anyways, I was there when the detectives explained what happened to Barnes."

I crack my neck, receding back into my haze. "No, Ed. I don't wonder about that, cause I don't even bother bringing it up."

"My apologies."

***

Ed leaves for work again the next morning. I hear it as he shuts the door quietly behind him. Every morning, without fail, it wakes me up.

Unlike Sera, I'm never able to pull myself out of my nightmares. I'm forced to watch as everything I love pours through my clenched fists.

And it's never the same thing. Each night brings a new horror to my door.

My mother's death is bringing back my guilty conscious, which I thought I killed a long time ago. Well, I wish I'd killed it a long time ago.

My phone buzzes loudly against the nightstand.

I texted Gabe the address of Ed's house last night, just in case he ever needs anything. Technically, Gotham is still under my control. Gabe is just running everything while I'm out. He suggested that Sera take over the position temporarily, but there's no way I'm going to make Sera jump back into the family.

I fired her, anyways. I don't know if she'd want to...

But just the way she talked to me that night. In the midst of all the grief and anger, I felt calm with her. I felt human.

Sera's phone number lights up on my screen. Maybe I should just give her a call and let her know I'm not dead. Would she like that? Or would she care to begin with?

Instead of her number, I dial up Ed's.

"Hello?"

"Yeah. Can you just run by the hospital and let her know I'm not dead?"

He sighs over the speaker. "But I thought we've been over this..."

"I don't care about my weakness. I'm planning to get out of Gotham, anyways. You know that. Tell her I'm alive."

"But-"

"She carried my child, Edward. Tell her. Today."

"Fine," he groans. "I'll go after work."

 


	40. Slipping Into the Abyss

 

**O. Cobblepot:**

I spend a majority of the day talking myself up cliffs and down them once again. Will she care that I'm alive? Or will she not give a damn? She could be so overwhelmed with joy, but she could also be so struck with grief at my survival.

As soon as Ed walks into the door, I assume the worst.

"What did she say?"

"She was actually asleep when I went by. Jim was there."

"Why would he be there when she's sleeping?" I furrow my brows. My hopes live on another day.

He shrugs, coming off from his day a the GCPD. "He was looking through some notebook. I asked him about it. He said that it was full of eye-opening stuff."

I remember the notebook. It sat on the table in the safe house. I saw her write in it once or twice, but I never bothered to ask her about it. "Did you see what she wrote?"

"Jim read me a little, but it's nothing I think you want to know."

My arms fold across my chest. "What do you mean?"

"A lot of the pages were dedicated to the baby," he sighs, tersely. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find someone to murder. It was a very stressful day at work and I need to relieve that stress."

"Sure," I nod in understanding. "Can you just keep it quiet? The neighbors called earlier. Said they were worried you and I got into a bit of a skirmish."

"You got it." Nygma closes the door behind him.

I feel like I should leave her alone. I'm too emotional, she's too emotional. Together, we'll just be toxic. But I just want to see her.

Since I've been here, I've been having trouble feeling human. My mother forced me to hold onto that piece of myself for such a long time. When she was murdered, that sliver slipped away. Even now, I can't seem to grasp onto to what it means to be alive.

Maybe I should just pay her a quick visit tonight, when no one's around. I highly doubt she'll be awake at such an early hour of the morning. If I can just see her– then maybe I can find some guidance.

* * *

 

**S. Gordon:**

Dr. Warrick peeps his head through the door. "Miss Gordon?"

"Mmm– yes?" I turn, like I've been watering the few plants on my window sill. In all honesty, I've watched him storm down the hall. He even ruffled his fingers through his hair before he knocked. Ah, yes. He's confident in himself now. Not even the toughest patient in the world is going to get in his way.

"I don't like the way you treated me earlier. But, I'm willing to put it behind me and try this thing again, if you are."

I sigh, like I'm thinking it over. "Sure, kiddo. Let's give it a try."

"Doctor– My– my name's Doctor Warrick."

My eyes roll in response. Adjusting the sleeves of my blue pajamas, I sit back down in my hospital bed. I'm so tired of this stupid place. I've been here for over a week (including being unconscious), and they still want to keep me for a few more days. Mostly, they're worried about internal bleeding that they aren't seeing. Plus, they want to make sure neither of the bullets punctured any other major organ.

"Right. So, what would you like to talk about today, Darren?"

"Normally," he sits in the chair adjacent to mine. "I'm the one asking the questions."

"Yeah, well, I think you'll find that I'm not a normal case, doc."

"Well, none of my cases are just  _normal,_ Sera. I like to think that every person's situation is unique to them. No one is ever the exact same 'case'."

And for that, I'm glad. I don't know if I can take one more person treating my issues like they're completely normal. Because they're not. They're the farthest things from normal. My ex-boyfriend is a mass murderer and deceased. My brother is a cop who doesn't know how to deal with me. My ex- best friend is God-knows-where doing God-knows-what. Not to mention, he let my ex-boyfriend's mother die. My other best friend is nineteen years old with a dying father, and is the head doctor of a gang. Oh, right. Not to mention, I've lost a child within the last month. Do I even need to bring up the fact that both my parents are dead? 

"And that's right."

"So where would you like to begin?" He leans back in his chair and folds his hands over a notepad. A pen rests in between his pale fingers.

I, too, lean back in my bed. The drowsiness kicks in every so slightly. "Me? What do you mean?"

"Well," he shrugs. "I'm here to listen. Tell me about your life. I can't properly help you unless I know about your past."

"I suppose I could start at my dad's funeral. That's kinda where it all began anyways. That was the day I met Falcone."

"Carmine Falcone? Like the criminal boss?"

I nod. "Yeah. He was an old friend of my dad's–"

All of the sudden, a dark haired figure strolls in.

I know that face, but how? Where do I remember him from?

"Hello," he shakes my outstrechted hand. "My name is Harvey Dent. I was the one who brought you to the hospital after you fell... You were in pretty bad shape."

Oh! That's how I know him, yes. He was the MC for the event. I start getting flashbacks. He's the person who held my life in his hands. I practically owe him every breath that exits my lungs from here on out. My head begins to hurt with reminders from that night. But not only that, my heart burns from those memories. It's a physical pain that makes me clench my fists to keep from grabbing at my chest.

"Thank you, Mr. Dent. I know that I cannot possibly thank you enough for everything you've done for me."

"It's the least I can do for the sister of Jim Gordon. He cares about you quite a bit, you know."

I laugh softly, even though a horrible headache plagues my temples. "Yeah. Believe me. I know."

"Anyways, I just wanted to stop by and see how you were recovering. I'd love to talk with you more, but I see you're in the middle of something."

"And I the same. I appreciate it, Mr. Dent–"

"Please, just call me Harvey," he flashes a charming, and surprisingly content smile.

I try and return the same. "Of course. I would love to get in touch with you sometime soon, Harvey."

He jots down his phone number and shortly leaves the hospital room, leaving Dr. Warrick and I in an uncomfortable silence.

"Miss Gordon?"

Just remembering the few spare detail from the night drive my mind to loud, hard pulsing. "What?" I ask, irritatedly. The last thing I want is to be bombarded with questions about how I'm feeling. Not only that, but I'm forced to remember the way  _he_  looked at me as I fell.

In a moment of desperation, I look towards the pain medicine just waiting to be dripped into my arm. I haven't used it for anything other than physical pain, but there's always a time to start.

"Sera," Dr. Warrick grabs my arm. "Only use it if you're in pain."

"I am in pain," I snap. 

The doctor narrows his chocolate eyes at me, but releases my arm. Good thing for him, too. I don't know how far my patience will last today. "That's going in your eval," he snarks.

"What are you talking about?" The medicine button rests in my hands. Just one press of my thumb and the memories and pain can submerge under the blanket of a high. But I wait.

"I'm not here to give you any sort of session until I evaluate you. That's generally how these things go. And right now, I'm thinking you may need a few months in Arkham."

"What do you mean? That's not even fair! I haven't told you anything!"

He leans back in his chair when I drop the medicine button. "Fine, then start at the beginning."

Over the next hour or so, I tell him everything I can remember, starting at my father's funeral. I don't hold back. He learns everything about my involvement with Gotham's criminal underworld and Oswald Cobblepot. I tell him about the child, and the way Jim feels about it. He knows about my friendship with Butch Gilzean and Harvey Bullock.

He knows it all... except for the time that I died. That's something I will never share with anyone.

It actually feels good-ish to let it out.

"Why– Why are you crying?" He asks when I'm through with my story.

"Because I'm sad, you idiot," I snap at him. Not only that, but there's such an amount of guilt parading at my soul. "I'm still a good person, doc."

Darren sighs, finishing up some last scribbles on his notes before looking at me. "Sera, I don't know about that, anymore. I took– I took your case thinking you were some sort of victim of abuse from Penguin. I thought that maybe you had a mental illness, but now I'm not sure. You killed a man, Sera."

"He had a gun at my–" It's still almost impossible to visualize without going into an attack. "– my face, Warrick."

But he's right. I've become the exact thing I didn't want to. I'm an enabler. There's just nothing else to it. I'm not a victim, I'm not crazy. I'm just bad. And there's no way I can justify it anymore. 

"There's so much I've gone through," I continue. "You know that. I haven't even had time to grieve over my miscarriage!" 

Another pitiful sigh pours from his lips. "I'm sorry, Sera. But I think I'm going to refer you to Arkham Asylum. By law, I also have to report you and your brother to the police force." 

"My brother  _is_  the police force!" 

"Then it will be on his head to do what's right," he stands, folding up his notes. "We can continue treatment at the Asylum." 

"Wait, no. You don't have to do that." I start to panic. I can't go there. No one just goes to Arkham and comes out okay. And who is he to act so righteous? Even Jim bends against the law sometimes! If this doctor really cared about how my mental state was, he'd refer me to intensive care and quite possibly suicide watch. 

He smirks as he reaches the door. "I know, but... It payback, for her." 

"Wait! Wait!" My brain doesn't even register what he's said. I run to the door, ripping out my IV at the same time. The pain stops me for a second. It's just enough time for him to slip into the chaos of the hallway.  I scream in a mix of pain and anger. Payback for her? Oh my God. It makes sense. He must be a Fish Mooney follower. It won't surprise me if the queen bitch herself made sure to get some corrupt fans on the inside of every building. Darren is just doing this out of spite for Penguin, now. 

Ha. He isn't even alive anymore.

* * *

 

**O. Cobblepot:**

"Yes, I'm going to see her," I say through the speaker. "No, I don't need you to come. And no, I'm not joining back in with my gang yet." 

Edward's eyes roll. Even though I can't see them, they're easy to imagine. "Are you sure you want to do this? It seems like a bad idea, given your track record with women." 

My silence gives him the answer he needs. 

"Fine! But don't come back crying if she isn't happy to see you. She's still grieving over you, and you're interrupting that process." 

"Thank you, Ed, friend, for your wonderful words of encouragement." I hang up the phone before he has a chance to answer. 

The hospital is as quiet as death when I enter. One look at the desk nurse, and she nods to me. If I wanted to, I could shoot this place up and no one except Jim Gordon would lift a finger. 

"Where is Sera Gordon?" 

She points to a room at the end of the hall. It's an ICU room. Two layers of doors stand between her and I. I can't see every detail of the room from the length that I am, but I can tell all the lights are off. And there seems to be no movement. Good. Maybe she doesn't have to see me. 

In all of my life, I don't think I've ever been so nervous. What if she's asleep? What if she's waiting to claw out my eyes or something? What if she's happy? I feel like I don't know anything except my own name, anymore. 

All of the air in my lungs leaves as I open the first door. 

Her silhouette stands against the window. The (almost unnaturally) bright light of the moon is the only giver of answers. She stands at the window sill, almost completely still. It looks like she's holding her arm and simply... existing. 

The next door opens and she turns. 

For a long time, the only sound between us is the beeping of her heart monitors. 

Her features are shadowed by the light of the moon, but I think in all of our time being together, she's never looked so gorgeous. Her hair isn't perfect, she's not in a fancy dress, and she doesn't wear any make-up. It's just Sera; the raw woman she is. 

"So you're alive." 

I nod, slipping my hands into the pockets of my suit. "Yeah, yeah, I am." 

"What happened?" 

"Well, after you fell, I made sure you were safe and went after Galavan. His sister shot me in the back. I escaped and went out to my trailer and waited to die. Um, Edward Nygma found me, patched me up, and I've been living with him." 

Sera rests a hand on her chin, thoughtfully. "It looks like Nygma's the hero of this story."

I chuckle, softly. "It does seem that way, doesn't it?"

Another silence follows. 

"What happened you you?" I ask, not being able to condone the uncomfortable quiet. 

"Well," she says. "Last I checked–"

"What do you mean 'last you checked'?"

"I don't remember anything after falling for a long time," Sera explains, leaning against the window sill. "I hit my head and I was out. Anyways, I was in a coma for a week or something. I was in a neck brace, because I almost broke that. I had a bad concussion. I lost a kidney, due to the bullet wound. I also broke my arm, and was shot in the shoulder. I've been in this hellhole ever since. Oh." She perks up. "My trauma counselor is submitting me to Arkham, tomorrow. Know why?" 

I shake my head. She's not insane. And last I checked, she's not suicidal. 

"Because he's a die-hard Fish follower. He's submitting me to Arkham tomorrow to get back at you. You, who I thought was dead until just now." 

"I'm sorry," I apologize. "I'm not going to let him do that to you." 

"You're not? You let me believe you were dead for longer than I'd like." She (with a wince) crosses her arms over her chest. 

"I know. I just didn't have my thoughts together. I didn't know what I was going to do, but now I do." My hands reach out to her. 

In a moment of what looks like fear, she recoils from me. "And what is that?" 

"Let's get out of Gotham," I say. "We don't have to be here, anymore. We don't owe this place anything." 

"That's a great idea," she comments, nodding. "I would be all for it, but Gabe called me earlier." 

"What did he say?" 

"He asked if I would help lead the gang while you were recovering." 

"No," I shake my head, nearing her. "I'm not going to let you do that, Sera. You still have so much you need to work out. You're no better than I am." 

"Yeah, but I didn't just lose the only person who's loved me for my entire life, either." 

That stops me. She's right. I'm not well. By all means, her emotional state is by far better than mine. I'm unstable. If I were to try and run the gang now, it would be run into the ground. Business would collapse and my reign would be over. I've worked so hard to get here. If I leave the city, I'll just be running away from everything I've built. I've been denying it, but when she says it, it breaks my walls that I've been scrambling to rebuild. 

"You're right," I agree. "You're absolutely right. You can run the family for now, but I will be back. I know it's not your thing." 

"You're right," she snaps. "It's not. The only reason I'm doing it is because I don't want to go to Arkham." 

I sit on her hospital bed, soaking it in. How exactly does she feel about me? One minute, she's happy that I'm alive, and the next minute, she's only helping me because she doesn't want to go to the looney bin. Women. Not even my mother told me everything she wanted. My eyes roll internally. "Has Jim come by to see you?" 

"Yeah," she shrugs. "He brought my stuff from the safehouse. Harvey also came to see me. And Lee, of course. Have you seen Joanne? Or Butch?" 

I shake my head. "I haven't seen either. If I saw Butch, you'd be reading his obituary in the newspaper, and if I saw Joanne, I would've already delivered her message to you." 

A soft laugh leaves her lips. For a moment, all I can do is grin. "I miss them."

It brings back the somber tone. "I miss Joanne, too. I don't miss Butch. I can't." 

"But I think you do," Sera interrupts me. "You miss the loyalty, I think." 

I roll my eyes, smirking. "Since when did you become a counselor, Miss Gordon?" 

"Since you crawled into my bed." 

At that, we both laugh. "No, you were the one that crawled into mine. Don't even try to put the blame of this on me." 

Her laughs fades and recedes into a bittersweet smile. Sera standing in the moonlight, donning that smile is the most beautiful thing I think I've ever seen in the world. 

But just as we lock eyes again, her smile fades. "I went there, y'know." 

"Where?" My brows knit together. 

"I don't know," she admits. "But I was there." 

"Ummm...." 

"After the fall, I dreamt– sort of. I was in this giant like, feasting hall. My mom was there, and so was my dad. In my mom's arms was her." She doesn't even have to spell out who 'she' was. I know exactly who it was. "And um, I held her," Sera sweeps a strand of hair out of her face. It's killing her to talk about it. And as she speaks, I don't think she's ever told anyone about the encounter. "I held her only for a short time, before my dad took her away. I talked to my mom for a little bit and then–" Her jaw clenches together. "And then your mom wanted to see her. She talked about you. Um, and then it was gone. It was all over." 

By the end of her tale, both of us are near cracking. She doesn't tell me exactly what my mother said because she doesn't have to. I have a pretty good idea of how it went. 

"I'm sorry, Sera," I tell her, quickly dabbing my eyes with my sleeve. "I'm sorry for everything I pulled you into." 

She waves it off. "You didn't pull me into anything. I went in, knowingly. I'm just as bad as the rest of you." 

"No you're not. You're so much better than anyone in this horrible town." 

"I'm glad you think that, but I'm okay with it. I killed someone, Oswald." 

"Who?" 

"A Penguin. At the party for Galavan. He had his gun pointed  on me. That was the only thing I could do." 

"Then that's justified," I say. "You were acting out of self-defense." 

"Any other day, I would've gotten him off of me in a different way or let myself die." She walks forward until she's right in front of me. "But no, I shot him right in the chest." When she says her last word, she lays her finger on mine, where she shot my impersonator. 

"Sera," I run my hands down her arms and grab onto her hands. "I don't care what you say, I'm still going to believe you're the best thing about this godforsaken city." 

"Well," she smirks. "You kind of have to. You're my–" She stops. 

"Would you even want to be with me again?" 

She stops for a minute. Her hazel eyes glance around the hospital room. Her hands even pull away from mine. Sera distances herself. It's like she shells herself up in this impenetrable wall where nothing can disturb her. Only her thoughts echo through the tower. And Oswald Cobblepot is nowhere to be found. She bites on her lip as she looks at me.

And that's when I know the answer. 

"It's okay," I say. "You don't have to answer me." 

"No," she stops me from getting up by grabbing onto my hands. "I would. I do. I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I can't see my life without you in it." 

"O–" Her answer astonishes me. I was expecting her to want to lead the gang as a goodbye present, and then get the hell out of dodge. But no. She wants to be with me; me of all people. "O–Okay... It's not going to be easy." 

"It won't be for me either. I'm going to be mean, sometimes." 

"So am I. I'm going to be depressed." 

"I'll help you work it out. So you'll stay with me, right? No matter how difficult I'm going to be," she asks. 

"As long as you do the same for me." 

"Promise?"

"I promise."


	41. The Queen of Gotham's Short Reign

**S. Gordon:**

"We can't stay here," I say, unlatching my hands from his. "I don't know when Warrick is planning to admit me into the asylum, and frankly, I don't want to stay to find out."

"You're right," Oswald stands. "What do you need me to do?"

"I just need a place for the night. Tomorrow, I'll go back to the mansion and set myself up there."

"I know a place."

"You really think it's a good idea for both of us to stay at Ed's place?" I throw my small collection of belongings into the suitcases that Jim brought from the safe house.

"Well," he helps me shove things into bags. "It doesn't really look like we have a choice."

He's right. They can come and get me at any minute. My time is running slim. Either I run away with my lover, or I stay here and get the justice I deserve. Today, I'm choosing to run away.

"My car is outside. We can make it out. Are you ready?"

I shut the last suitcase. "Yes, let's move."

He leads the way. Crystal eyes glance all around the hospital, just to ensure that any uncorrupt nurse or officer isn't lurking. "We're just going to be heading out now," he tells a nurse.

"Of course, Mr. Cobblepot. Enjoy your evening."

That seems to be the typical response we get from every nurse, doctor and officer until we get to the bottom floor. Just as the elevator door opens, my bag drops from my arms. I lunge to pick it up, but hit my side on the elevator. 

"Ah!" I groan, clutching my side, but following Oswald as close as I can. 

"Oh," he stops immediately, making me run into him. "We're just heading out."

Rachel's eyes scan us both over. "I'm sorry. I can't let you do that. Dr. Warrick has instructed that you stay here until he can correctly admit you into Arkham. Sera, please come with me."

"I'm sorry," I pull away from her gentle grip. "I have to leave. You and I both know I don't belong in Arkham."

She hesitates, but still shakes her head. "How can I be sure of that? You change your story so much, Sera. I don't even know what to believe anymore, and now you're running off with a mass murderer! He's a homicidal maniac! He– he tried to kill the mayor!"

"Only after he had my mother murdered in front of me," he quips. "He's not the man you think he is. It's all a fraud."

She and I both roll our eyes. 

"Listen," I begin. "I'm not asking to forgive me for shutting you out of my life and lying to you. I am asking that you let me go. I don't belong in Arkham and I never will. Let me escape from that."

Rachel crosses her arms, like she's thinking it over.

"Please. I'll tell you everything later."

"Ugh," she groans. "Fine. Leave."

As we climb into his car, he glances at me before driving away. "You're not going to seriously tell her everything, are you?"

I shake my head, taking one last glance at the hospital. "No, I'm not. She and I both know she won't be getting any information."

"It's better that way," Oswald assures to my obvious displeasure about the situation. "The less she knows, the less she can get hurt."

And suddenly, it doesn't seem like we're talking about Rachel anymore.

* * *

 

Cobblepot barrels through the door and locks it back quickly behind me.

Nygma peels his eyes away from his piano and to me. "Really? You should let me know when we're going to have visitors!" He complains, quickly shaking my hand. Oswald sets down my stuff on a bed and waddles into the kitchen. Ed tails him. "I only bought enough takeout for two."

"That's okay," Oswald shrugs. "I can make something else."

As his roommate chews him out, I take a look around the apartment. It's certainly Edward Nygma's. Everything has a proper place and position. Almost nothing out of its correct place... Except for the things that Oswald has torn up in his tornado-like presence.

I open up a door, looking for a bathroom, when I stumble across a man in a closet. He's tied down to a chair with a bag over his face. "Oh my God!" I scream and slam the door.

"Why do you have a hostage in your closet?"

"You can kill him, if you'd like!" Ed calls from the kitchen. "He was getting boring anyways."

"Don't you hate it when they do that?" Oswald agrees.

"Yeah," I mock the two of them. "I really do hate when my hostage gets so boring that I have to kill him. No thanks, Ed. He's all yours."

"Mmmm, suit yourself," he shrugs, pulling out and assorting the food on a small table. "So, how long have you as Oswald known each other?"

"Hold on," I demand once I'm back in the kitchen. "You can't just go from  _'no thanks, Sera. You can kill my hostage'_  to  _'how long have you and your boyfriend known each other'_. I'm sorry that's just not how it's going to work."

"Okay," he sits in a pullout chair. "What would you like to talk about, Miss Gordon?"

"Oh, I dunno," I shrug, sarcastically. "Maybe we should talk about when you decided you were a serial killer?"

"Well," he begins with a mouthful of food. "Remember Miss Kringle?"

I nod, inspecting the small box of Chinese food handed to me by Oswald.

"I accidentally killed her, and it just went downhill from there."

I always knew something about Ed was strange, but I never suspected something like this could go down.

"He's still going through murderer puberty," Oswald assures to my widened eyes. "He's still a work in progress."

"Yeah? Well I hope we don't end up a his next victims."

"I'm right here."

Oswald rolls his eyes. "We'll be fine. Plus, he knows that if he tries to hurt you, I'll rip out his spine."

Edward scoffs. "I am offended!"

Cobblepot shrugs. "Well. Sorry about that– um, Sera?"

A wave of nausea and dizziness hits me at once. I guess I took it pretty hard, trying to get out of the hospital so quickly. "I don't feel very good. Do you have a place for me to lie down?"

Ed stands and motions to the bed I slung my stuff on. Oswald helps me get it off and undo the sheets. As I crawl in, the intern feels my head.

"It doesn't feel like you have a fever..." He's such an odd man. At one point, he's mad that I'm here, but when it really matters, he's caring and gentle.

"I'm fine," I say, sleepily. "It's just a headache. I'll be fine in the morning."

"I hope so," my boyfriend plants a kid on my forehead. "You have a city to run tomorrow."

* * *

 

**O. Cobblepot:**

When Sera finally drifts to sleep, Ed shoots me the meanest glare I've ever seen from him.

"What?" I snap.

He rolls his green eyes as he throws away trash from the meal. "You're actually going to let her rule Gotham?"

"Yeah," my shoulders shrug. "Why not? It's only for a little while until I can get back on my feet again."

A sigh escapes his lips. "It seems like a bad idea, to me. Are you sure she's even fit to work?" 

"What do you mean 'fit to work'? I trust her ability to run Gotham for a day or two. It'll mean more to the family that she's in command rather than Gabe." 

"No. Oswald, you took her from the hospital. There's no telling if she's actually healed enough to be around all of your–" 

"Family."

"Thugs," he finishes. "One little skirmish and she could be back to where she started." 

"She'll be fine," I wave him off. "She always makes it out of the things I put her through."

It's late in the night by the time I join Sera to bed.

The only sound in the house is that of her soft breathing. As I crawl under the warm covers, I'm almost blown away at how different she looks. The trip from the hospital must've done something to her. She's pale– almost yellow. But perhaps that's just because of the dim moonlight still falling on her features like a new coat of snow. 

There's a relaxation that graces her features with a beauty that can only be seen while she's asleep. Sera's calm. Her worries have drifted away into an abyss only broken by my stirring beside her. Who is when she's not having to be the strong Sera Gordon I'm used to? 

* * *

 

**S. Gordon:**

The morning comes like an unforgiving promise. When the dim rays of sunlight hit my eyes, they open to Edward Nygma. 

"Whoa!" I jump back. "What are you doing?"

"Shhh!" He frowns, pointing to Oswald. "We don't want to wake him up, now do we?" 

My head shakes as I glance at him. He looks so peaceful. The last thing I want to do is disturb that. "No. What's going on?"

"I'm just trying to figure out why you." 

"Why me, what?" 

"Why he chose you, of course," Ed stands and leads me out and into his kitchen. As he continues on his rant, he hands me a plate of bacon and eggs. "Eat up. You have a big day, Queen of Gotham." 

It's been so long since I've had good, homemade food. I do just as he asks. "I think I chose him more than the other way around." 

The nerd shakes his head. "No, I don't think so. See, a person of his stature good probably have any woman he wants. And instead, he chose you." 

"He wasn't the king when he started this... thing." 

"It's still a little confusing to me, but I'm sure I can have the answer to you by tonight. Would you like to join us for dinner, speaking of which?" 

"That depends. I may be working until early, early tomorrow." 

"I understand." 

Checking the time, I realize how late it actually is. I change, get myself ready and head over to the mansion. 

* * *

 

"Oh my God! We're so glad you're back!" 

"Where is Penguin?" 

"Is he alive?" 

Questions parade and bombard me the moment I step foot into the grand mansion. There's only one that I bother to answer. 

"Are you going to be taking over his place?" 

I breathe in deeply, inhaling the familiar scent of alcohol, sweaty men, cheap cologne and cigars. "Yes," a grin plasters across my face. "Yes, I am. Let's get to work." 

The day consists of meetings after meetings after meetings. Different leaders report in with the latest business booms and falls. Apparently, Oswald's disappearance was bad for business. He certainly ran the gang with an iron fist. 

And well, basically, I fake it until I make it. I'm constantly asking Gabe different questions about how things work. It's stressful, but not only that, my guilt weight increases. I'm now in charge of almost every murderer in the city. 

Every death is on my head. 

"Where is Joanne?" I finally ask once we get a break. My stomach aches horribly. I haven't eaten all day, and the sun's already almost taking the place of the night. I've almost spent a whole twenty-four hours correcting the mistakes Oswald wasn't here to correct himself. 

"I'm right here," the woman that steps into the meeting room isn't Joanne. She's sickly and looks very well like she's dying. "I must say, it is a shock to see you." 

"Joanne?" I frantically stand and run over to her. She practically falls into my arms. "What's happened to you?" 

"They call it AIDS," she explains, sleepily. 

Gabe and I sit her in a chair. She lays her head down in her arms. Joanne's forehead is riddled with sweat. She coughs and wheezes like she's been smoking for all of her life. 

"I don't– I don't know what that is. Is it some sort of infection? You look like..." 

"I'm about to die? Yeah. I feel that way," a cough and struggle. The blonde shrugs, pulling her eyes to mine. "And anyways, you don't look any better than I do, girlfriend." 

I'm almost panicking by the time she even mentions me. "What do you mean?"

"You're paler than a ghost." 

"We need to get you to a hospital," I say. One nod to Gabe and he's already slinging her over his shoulder. 

"No! Put me down! The hospital can't do anything for me but comfort me. I don't need that. You, of all people should know that, Sera!" 

I'm reluctant, but I let her go. 

Joanne sits back in her chair, but not before shooting Gabe a glance to kill. 

"I'm fine. I'm just hungry. That's all." 

"Yeah, okay girlfriend. And I'm just dying, so I guess we're both going to be disappointments." 

Her words don't make any sense. It's like she's not all here. A part of Joanne is far, far away. And that's when I know. She really is dying. 

Tears swell up in my eyes as she begins to sob. The young woman curls up into a ball. All of the other gang members begin to give her weird looks. 

"Everyone, OUT."

They do just as they're told. 

She falls to the floor, and I go with her. My arms wrap around hers as I rock her back and forth. My best friend shivers and weeps in my arms. 

"Is that so?" Gabe speaks into his cell phone.

"Who is it?" I demand.

He shakes his head. "Yes, the boss would like to know about that. I'll be right over." 

"What was that about?" 

"Galavan got out."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna go tell Penguin." 

"Yes. You need to do that. You know where he is?"

"Nygma's house." 

"Call me as soon as you know a game plan. That's an order, Gabe."

"Yes ma'am!" 

* * *

 

At some point, I must've fallen asleep. When I wake up, the sun is beginning to drift behind the jagged Gotham horizon.

"Galavan's gonna die," Joanne says at one point. 

I stop stroking my fingers through her hair. "Yeah, yeah he is." 

"And then, you're gonna die." 

"Me? No. I'm perfectly fine," I chuckle. How long have I just been sitting here holding my best friend? It only feels like it's been only five hours at the most. "Just go to sleep, Joanne." 

"I don't want to." 

"Why not?" 

"Because if I do, I'll never wake up again." 

I peel my eyes up to the ceiling. "Don't say that. It's not going to be that bad."  

All of the sudden, Harvey bursts into the room, making Joanne and I jump.

"You're gonna wanna be here for this, sister." 

"What's going on?" 

"Galavan's kidnapped Bruce. We're getting everyone together." 

I stand, keeping Joanne in my arms, but painfully so. I shouldn't be lifting her yet. A pain shoots through my stomach. 

"Leave me," Joanne says, struggling out of my grip. "You need to be there." 

I lay her down beside the dimming fire. 

Harvey coaches me on, and so I leave with him. I exit out of the mansion, and I never look back. 

* * *

 

"I hope you don't think too horribly of me. We are who we are," Oswald's shaking Lee's hand by the time I return. I followed Harvey along in my car. 

"Wait, where are you going?" I ask, running up to the car. Even so, when I get there, I'm out of breath and dizzy. 

"You need to take it easy," Lee says, narrowing her eyes at me. "You've just gotten out of the hospital." 

"I'm fine. Just tell me what's going on." 

"I'm pregnant, so I'm leaving town for a few days. Jim's going to find me when all of this is over." 

Pregnant? Lee? Pregnant? In that moment, I pray with everything I have within my soul that her child does not turn out the way mine did. I pray that she is kept safe and calm. I hope she is kind and gentle to everyone around her. I want Jim's child to be just like Lee. I want her to be determined and strong-willed, but sweet and tender when she needs to be. 

Oswald wraps his arms around me. "Let's go, Sera." 

"I'm fine," I say. "Goodbye, Lee." 

"Goodbye, Sera. I'll call you when I get there." 

"Please keep me updated on your condition." 

"Of course." 

As we walk in, everyone's getting ready for the big break. Even Selina Kyle and Alfred make an appearance. 

"You don't look so good, mate." 

I roll my eyes at the old man. "I'm fine. If I can't fulfill my promise to Bruce, I'm at least going to help get him back." 

"Who is she?" A dark-skinned man inquires from the side. 

"This is Sera Gordon; Jim's sister. Sera, this is Lucius Fox." 

"It's a pleasure," we exchange greetings. 

"You're still recovering from bullet wounds. There's no way you're going," Jim demands. "Stay here. I'm ordering you, Sera."

"Ed, watch her!" Oswald commands in agreement with Jim. "Make sure she doesn't decide to follow us." 

"You got it." 

This time, I don't argue. I'm just so overwhelmed with grief and joy and beauty. I don't know about Joanne's prophecy, but going with them will be the easiest way to fulfill it. 

"If you find him, kill him," I say, planting a kiss onto Oswald's lips. "Please." 

"Oh believe me, that won't be a problem," he promises. "I love you, and I'll be back later." 

"Promise?"

"I promise."


	42. Free Falling

Harvey returns before Jim and Oswald do. "I have a feeling I know what they're going to do." 

Ed and I stop our pacing. 

"Yeah," I say, uncomfortably. For Jim to be okay with Oswald murdering someone, Galavan has to be a horrible person. Even though there's no doubt in my mind at how bad Galavan is, I'm still in disbelief that Jim would actually let someone die. 

The room is mostly filled with dense silences and awkward glances as we wait. 

"You really don't look good," Ed finally comments on my appearance. He made me a protein-filled dinner after the boys left. So, I'm not hungry, but there's still a shooting pain my stomach. 

"I don't feel so good, either."

Harvey agrees with him. "Maybe you should lay down." 

"No, I'm fine. I just need some air." 

Edward lifts up my shirt, gazing at my bullet wound. 

"Oh my God!" I shove him off of me. "Stop it, Ed." 

He frowns. "You need to go to the hospital. You're internally bleeding." 

"If that's the case, then Sepsis is already a thing!" I groan, doubling over. "I think it started when I hit my side at the hospital."

Harvey doesn't catch on. "What's that?" 

"It's a blood infection. And, at this point, it's not treatable," Ed says, sitting me down on the couch. "If she truly has been bleeding for two days, she's already close to... y'know." 

"Wait," it seems to take Harvey by some sort of storm. "There has to be something we can do! Maybe we can flush out her blood, or, or– I'm not just going to give up." 

I shrug him off, standing from the couch, but barely. "Harvey, it's going to be okay. You have to trust me. Everything will be fine." 

He shakes his head as Ed tears away from the situation. "You can't do this to us, Sera. I have to go get Jim or something!" 

"Really, it'll be alright." Death is a process I've already accepted. 

Harvey shakes his head. "No. It's not. What are we going to do without you?" 

"What is Oswald going to do without you?" 

"I'm not sure," I confess to his best friend.  "I don't know about anything anymore... Can I– Can I get some air?" 

Ed helps me out onto his balcony. "You know," I tell him as Harvey joins him in holding me up. "I've always wanting to fly. If I could have a superpower, that's what it'd be." 

"Why?" 

"Just the carefree feeling of not being tied down to anywhere. Not even gravity can hold me to it's law." 

At that time, Oswald and Jim burst through the door. Harvey and Ed run into tell them about my condition. Should I? Should I get my superpower? I could dive off the balcony and be carefree once more. 

But as I see their crystal eyes widen, I know that I don't have that privilege. Oswald and Jim carry me inside and lay me down on Ed's couch. Harvey and Nygma join them at my side. 

"I feel like I should give out some grand speech," I laugh as Oswald intertwines his hand with mine. 

Already his crystal eyes are almost becoming grey from the moisture that fills them. Ed's green eyes float to Oswald. He's mourning over the loss that Cobblepot will feel, it's not even about me. And I'm glad. I don't want this to be about me. Harvey's old eyes meet with mine, briefly.

He mouths:  _"It's okay."_  

And I know it is. 

But Jim is what gets me the most. His bright blue eyes turn even brighter as he struggles to keep himself together.   He didn't even look this sad at dad's funeral. 

"You're gonna be okay. Just stay with us." he says, holding onto my other hand. 

I compose myself for a minute. Perhaps I should tell him that the path of the straight and narrow has never been mine to walk. Maybe he should know that he can do what he needs to now. But I don't. 

Ed is the next to speak up. "I'm sorry, Miss Gordon." 

I can almost feel my organs shutting down. This is it. It's my last few minutes. 

"I'm not good at saying things like 'I love you' and 'Goodbye'," Harvey says. "So, I guess I'm just going to keep assuring you that you're going to be okay. So, you're going to be okay. You're going to make it."

I smile at my best friend, my comforter. "I know. I know. I'll be fine." 

It's Oswald's turn. I want to encourage him to hurry, but I don't. If he wants to sit in silence, he can. Words aren't needed between us anymore. 

And so we do.

Tears swell up in my eyes again. I want Butch to be here. I want Joanne to be here. My other two best friends either hate me, or they're dead. But that's just what happens when people get around me, I suppose; they get hurt, die, or leave.

The guilt slowly fades away. The bullet has stayed in my chest long enough. My wings have been clipped for far too long. 

"Promise you'll stay with me?" Oswald finally asks. 

"Promise." 


End file.
